Branded
by ibshafer
Summary: Branded: Chapter 4 - Re Conditioned Responses - Part 1; Winry tries to break Ed of his milk aversion - any way she can... Picks up where Learning Curve left off...
1. Branded

**Title:** Branded  
**Part:** 1/1  
**Author:** ibshafer  
**Rating:** R – for language  
**Character/Pairing:** EdXWin… or is it WinXEd?…  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.  
**Summary:** In which Edward finds something on his automail that should be there…

**Warnings:** profanity, some kissy-face stuff, nothing explicit  
**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Feedback:** 'twould make me a happy FMA camper, yes it would…

**Branded**  
- ibshafer

"Nii-san! Nii-san, will you slow _down_! What's the big rush?"

Al's voice rumbled after him as Ed steamed down the road from the train station. He could hear the usual _'what'r-you-up-to-NOW, Nii-san' _tone in his brother's hollow armor voice, but was in no mood to stop and explain himself.

Ed pumped his legs faster, sending clouds of dirt drifting back the way he'd come. He could hear Al clanking away about twenty feet (thirty feet, forty…) behind him, but now that he was finally off that goddamned train and on his way, he wasn't gonna slow down for anything.

He'd been so impatient to _move_, he'd barely waited for the engine to stop, jumping from the car as it pulled into the station and leaving his befuddled younger brother on the platform to grab his suitcase and, no doubt, contend with the prying townsfolk he'd spied there before sprinting off down the road.

He could just hear them now…

_'Is that you, Alphonse? Have you gotten bigger, while your brother is getting smaller?' _

_'Does he always run that fast? With those tiny legs of his, I bet he has to just to keep up with you.' _

_'He sure is a grumpy little guy. Is he always like this?' _

_Grrrrr… _

He was sure Al had made all sorts of excuses for him and he was friggin' glad he hadn't been there to hear them.

_'Nope, he doesn't always run that fast – sometimes I **carry **him – and then he doesn't have to run at all….' _

_Grrrr… _

_'No, ma'am, I haven't really grown … um, much and Nii-san's actually an inch taller than he was when we left… No, you're right, an inch isn't very much…' _

_'Edward? You know, he can't help it. And really, he's a nice guy. No honest! It's just that Fullmetal Attitude of his.'_

Fullmetal Attitude!

Actually, that one wasn't half-bad. Edward liked to think he _owned _his 'fullmetal' attitude… And anyway, it was way better than Al's fave to toss out in a fight – the down-right-mean 'Fullmetal _Asshole….'_ (Alphonse had a _million _of 'em. He should take his act on the road. Oh, yeah, they were already _on _the road…)

Ed could no longer hear the sound of armor pounding on dirt road behind him and he pictured his little brother, exasperated, kicking Ed's lone suitcase in front of him, cursing him and vowing revenge. (The last time Al had been inspired to torture his brother, he'd woken up to find his flesh hand in a bowl of warm milk (ugh! that was torture enough) and his sheets and his shorts _wet_…

_Oh, yes, they'd had a good laugh over that one… _

_Grrrr…_

Ed felt a tiny, miniscule _(tiny? miniscule ?) _twinge of guilt about ditching his brother at the train station, but it's not like he didn't know where they were going or anything. He'd make it right with Al later on, after he'd settled things with…

T-that little…that little _bitch_!

Turning his thoughts back to the reason he'd jumped from a still-moving train, body-slammed a crowd of prying, but helpless townspeople, and left his big 'ol little brother in the dust, Ed put a fresh edge on his mad…

Who the hell did she think she _was_! Did she think he wouldn't notice? Did she think he wouldn't _mind_? Did she think she…

Ed continued up the road at a run, huffing and puffing, but growling the whole way.

Thing was, he _wouldn't _have noticed. Or rather, in the last three years, he _hadn't_, anyway. If he hadn't fallen asleep on the train, head in hand, if he hadn't been jostled by a rough patch of track, if he hadn't opened his eyes while his head was still _this _close to his palm, he might _not _have seen it…

But there it was. Plain as friggin' day.

_He was gonna kill her._

The house loomed large and yellow and sunbaked ahead of him and knowing she was probably in her workshop, stroking her own blond ego as she put together some poor schlub's arm or leg out of spare parts (probably _his_), he put on a fresh burst of steam and sprinted the rest of the way to the house.

Leaping over the sleeping dog on the front porch, he slammed the front door open and charged into the kitchen.

_"Where are you, you crazy idiot! You'd better have a good explanation for this! On second thought, there **can't **be one…"_ He glanced at his hand again, got himself wound up even further and just started screaming at the rafters, flailing his arms around like a windmill. _"Just who do you think you are, you egomaniacal grease monkey?"_

Granny Pinako stood at the stove, nonplussed, clearly unruffled by his presence, his decibel level or his vocabulary.

"Ah, Edward. You boys are early," she said in her calm, old-lady voice.

_Old lady, my ass!_

"We weren't expecting you for a couple of hours." She was stirring something foul-smelling – Ed hoped it wasn't dinner.

Old and calm or not, Granny Pinako was not someone to screw with. She could be pretty scary and Ed only had time for _one _fight right now.

"Where _is _she, Granny!" Ed sputtered, making an attempt at restraint. He clenched and unclenched his hands, at once grateful his right was made of metal – had it been flesh, he'd have _two _bleeding palms right now…

"Goodness, boy. She's out back hanging clothes on the line." She looked him up and down then nimbly grabbed his automail arm, turning it over in her hand. "You look in good order – I thought this was just a tune-up. Don't see any emergency here. What's the big rush?"

Wanting desperately to explode, Ed was having a hard time keeping all his various parts in place; he was practically vibrating and had turned a lovely shade of eggplant.

"That's between me and your _goddamned granddaughter_," he said through grit teeth.

"Watch your language, young man," Pinako said, unfazed, turning back to the stove. The pot's contents had turned an even less-appetizing shade of gray and had begun to sputter threateningly. "Stop your fuming and go out back…"

Al arrived as Ed stomped off down the back hall.

He heard Pinako ask what the _'little pipsqueak's problem was **this **time' _(he'd deal with her later!) and then his brother's embarrassed reply, "Oh, you know Nii-san. It could be _anything_…"

By the time he hit the screen door – and had imbedded it into the back of the house – his vision was red and he was imagining what it'd be like to transmute the porch swing into a catapult and launch her over the nearest hill…

And there she was, cool and relaxed in some flowing white whatchm'callit, hair shining in the sun, hanging up sheets and socks and Granny's underthings like she hadn't a care in the friggin' world. He could just… he could …

_Speak, moron! Tell her why, **then **kill her…_

_"Did you think I wouldn't notice!"_ He finally managed, his jaw tight and his hands in fists at his sides.

She looked over from the line, as though she hadn't heard him destroy the back door, as though she hadn't heard him screaming obscenities to her grandmother, as though she didn't know exactly _why _he was destroying doors and screaming obscenities, as though she didn't know why he was so… so _fucking _pissed off….

Smiling sweetly, she carefully finished hanging what appeared to be a tent with two holes at the top.

"Oh, hello, Ed. Have a good trip? Where's your brother?"

_Hello! Have a good trip! _

_Grrrrrrrrrrr…_

"Where's my _brother?_" he squeaked, apoplectic. "Never mind my brother! I wanna know where you get your _nerve_!"

"Huh?"

"Explain _this,_" he bristled, shoving his automail hand in her smug, sun-tanned, freckled face.

Winry just sighed. "You want me to explain how _automail_ works? I've gone over neural theory with you before, Ed. Honestly, you're supposed to be such a genius, but sometimes, I just don't see it…"

Ed sputtered and spun in place a few times. "Not the damned _neural theory_! Explain _thiiiis…"_

Opening his palm, he forced it closer to her wide-blue eyes.  
_  
__Why do you keep doing that, you freak! You're supposed to be pissed off at her, one step away from making her a skinny, blond memory – there! you did it again! – so why do you keep noticing shit like what she's wearing or how many freckles are sitting on the end of her stupid little nose? (It's five, by the way, but who's counting?) _

Screwing up his temporarily derailed resolve, he pushed until his metal palm was touching those freckles, … er, her nose.

"Explain _t-that!_"

"What? Oh, you mean the _signature_?" She pushed her bangs out of her eyes. "What's the big deal?"

"What the fuck's your _signature _doing on my hand? It's … it's like you _branded _me, or something."

And then she did it. She really did it.

Winry started laughing.

It was the single-most infuriating sound on earth, one that grabbed every nerve in his body and pulled, _hard_.

He wanted to… he wanted to grab her and toss her onto the grass and…

…and he was going for _'stomp that stupid grin off her face!' _but what actually floated to the top of his head was, _'and kiss that stupid grin of her perfect, Winry face…_'

_Woa… Where the fuck did **that **come from?_

She was still laughing when the short circuit in his brain righted itself. The red returned to his vision and he felt better.

"What's so freakin' funny!"

"Oh, god, Ed, I'm _sorry_," she panted, wiping the tears from her face. "I just can't believe this is what you're so upset about. Don't you think you're overreacting?"

_I am **not **over reacting – this is exactly the right reaction for finding someone's name friggin' etched on your body!_

If she'd yelled back, that would have been one thing – even playing field and all. That she was so calm about it was … was maddening. And if there was anything Edward Elric hated, it was being out-done. _By anyone. _

Reining himself in, Ed made a concerted effort at maturity, dialing back the decibel level a smidge.

"So tell me, Winry. Why exactly do I have your _name_ scribed into my hand…"

He was very proud of himself for not finishing that sentence the way he'd wanted to, punctuated with a rousing, chanted, _'you bitch?_'

She went back to pinning unmentionables to the line.

S_hit! He hadn't noticed the pink flowered sling shot before… Head lolling to one side, he watched it flutter in the breeze and felt the blood start to leak from his nose…_

Shoving his hand in his pocket and pinching a thigh between metal fingers, he managed to shake it off.

Winry hadn't noticed.

"To be honest, Ed, I'm actually a little embarrassed to tell you." Damned if she wasn't blushing…

_Shit! He couldn't cream her now, not if she was gonna be all cute and sorry…_

"It's sort of like when an artist signs a masterpiece…" she went on quietly.

_Artist! Masterpiece!_

"I am not some goddamned painting, Winry!"

The flush spread to her neck.

Before his rage stepped up and smacked down the winged cherub that stood in for Ed's heart, he'd been thinking she looked really, really _cute _like that…

Then rage poked him in the ribs, stomped on the pinkie toe of his right foot, and he found his growl again.

Which lasted exactly two seconds.

"_You're_ my masterpiece, Ed," she said, turning those wide-blue eyes on his sorry pansy-yellow ones.

_Aw, jeez…_

"W-well…"

_After all of that, is that the best you can manage?_

_"W-well…" _

Ed sighed. Apparently, it _was_.

Winry plopped herself down on the porch swing, pushing off and letting the breeze make her white skirt flutter.

"I don't understand why this is such a big deal, Ed." Her tone, and the way she couldn't meet his gaze, said different.

Ed huffed once, then gave up. _Kicking puppies was no fun…_

He sat himself down next to her, momentarily annoyed that his feet didn't touch the porch…

"Maybe if you'd told me you were gonna do it, it wouldn't have been such a shock…"

Rocking them back and forth, Winry bit her lip.

_Not her lip!_

"I was embarrassed and I thought you'd yell at me…"

_Wait a sec! Why should she be embarrassed about signing her work? Unless that's not why she's embarrassed…_

Ed's voice came out in a tight, controlled tone through grit teeth. The last time he'd used that tone, he'd just discovered that bastard Colonel had sent him off to the far end of the country through snake-infested marshlands to pick up a box of _cigars _for him…

"You're _lying._"

When she wouldn't look at him, he knew he'd nailed it.

"You didn't put your signature on my automail so people would know it was your work…" His decibel level started to rise again, in sync with the pitch of his voice.

_Is it warm out here or is it me?_

His mouth continued talking of its own accord, even though his sanity was screaming at it to just shut up.

"You put your name on me so anyone getting … getting close enough to _see_ it would know you—you _owned _me!"

"That's ridiculous, Ed. You paid off that automail a long time ago."

_Stop! Don't say anything else! You can still run! You can still get away!_

"That's not what I meant, Winry." His mouth was still clearly in control of his brain. His anger, though, seemed to have an 'in' because it finally got a word in edge-wise.

"You did it because you friggin' wanted to scare off other girls."

_There! I said it._

Oh, and…

Other _girls!_

"D-did it work?" came a tiny voice from under a curtain of spun silk.

"Yes! _No!_ I mean, I don't know…"

_Shit! Said too much!_

Still without looking up, she slid her hand over on the bench and found his where it rested, covering it tentatively.

He felt some tension ease at the warmth of her smooth palm, then abruptly pulled his hand back and sprinted from the swing.

"Look! You don't _own_ me, Winry!"

Now it was her turn to get mad and for a second, Ed grabbed his head, looking around frantically for that damned wrench.

"Are you _sure_!" She screeched, stomping across the porch. "Are you sure, Edward! Because you own _me!_" She stabbed out with a pointed index finger, pushing him back a few paces with every poke. "Do you think I spend 12 hours on a train to rebuild automail – _in the field_ – for _all _of my customers!" _Poke, two steps_. "Do you think I feed chicken soup and potato chips to _all _of my customers when they bust up my automail because they're so goddamned reckless!" _Poke, two steps. _"Do you think I do _this_ to all of my customers!" _Poke – **wall.**_

Pressing him against the house – and herself against _him_ – she grabbed the front of his road-worn red coat and cut short anything he had deluded himself into thinking he was going to say.

_Ummm, it probably wasn't worth saying anyway. _

_Did I know her lips were that soft? If I didn't, I was an idiot…_

Oh, and…

_Mmmmm…_

He was still mad, he wanted to push her off, he wanted to shut her up _(but she wasn't saying anything right now), _but his mouth had once again taken control of his brain and for once, it had some pretty good ideas…

She'd slid her tongue tentatively between his lips and deciding he most certainly did not mind that, he'd opened wider and let her explore.

_Yes, **very **mmmmm…_

He also let her slip her hands behind his head, and in the spirit of equivalent exchange, he slid his around her tiny waist, pulling her closer.

It was her turn to _'Mmmmm…'_

Somewhere in the back of his mind, rage was holding its hand up, not-so-patiently waiting to say something.

_Over here, idiot! We're not done with this._

Growling in the back of his throat, a sound that only spurred Winry on, Ed reluctantly pulled himself away from her.

"T-this doesn't mean you _own_ me, you know," he said, voice somewhat breathless, probably from the lack of breathing…

Her face was flushed and her lower lip was swollen slightly.

Smiling, she nodded her head slowly and she was so close, he could hear her hair sweeping against his face.

"Call it whatever you _want_, Ed…"

She leaned into him and he felt his eyes bulge wide.

Needing no further hint, he spun her around, pressed her back against the house and covered her mouth with his.

_'Need to find another word for it,'_ his fuzzy mind thought, then, returning the favor, he traced the roof of her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

The silly cherub threw up a suggestion, but for some reason, the letters refused to resolve into sense.

_What does l-o-v-e spell?_

He could figure that out later. Something told him she'd been thinking about it a while.

And if he was being honest with himself, and if you can't be honest with yourself, what was the point in telling the truth, he'd been thinking about it, too…

They say the more you care about someone, the madder they can make you.

By those standards, the cherub's suggestion was starting to make more and more sense….

Deciding that for the moment he didn't care about words or cherubs or friggin' signatures in strange places, Ed wrapped his arms more tightly around her, shuddering at the feeling of her tight against him, and put all higher thought processes on hold. Indefinitely.

In the kitchen, Alphonse was standing on a ladder waiting for Pinako to slop paste on the next piece of wallpaper so he could hang it.

They'd both paused when the yelling had stopped and now that the not-yelling had turned into not-talking, Pinako had tip-toed down to the back door for a look see.

She stepped back into the room, nonplussed as ever, and returned to the wallpaper, chewing at the stem of her pipe.

_"'bout time,"_ she said matter-of-factly and Al, who would have gaped if he could have, just stared off in the direction of the back door.

Al was a bright guy, but realization took a little while to dawn.

"Ohhhh," he finally said, giving himself a little smack in the head (good thing he couldn't feel that or it would have hurt…) "So _that's _what all the yelling and wrench throwing has been about all these years."

_fin_


	2. Kiss and Tell

**Title: **Kiss and Tell, (Branded, Chapter 2)  
**Part:** 2/3  
**Author:** ibshafer  
**Rating:** R – for language, content  
**Character/Pairing:** Mostly convo between Ed and Al, then EdXWin… or is it WinXEd?…  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.  
**Summary:** In which which Alphonse tries to get his brother to kiss and tell…  
**Warnings:** profanity, some kissy-face stuff, some adult concepts, but nothing explicit  
**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; Humor  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Feedback:** 'twould make me a happy FMA camper, yes it would…

Kiss and Tell

_ibshafer_

"Nii-san?"

In the darkness, Alphonse's whispered call to his brother was met with the kind of silence that can only be achieved when the call_ee _is holding their breath really, really hard, trying not to move or be heard, and the call_er_ is holding _their_ breath really, really hard, trying not to move so they can _hear_…

Forgetting himself, or maybe just giving up, the callee let out a tiny sigh.

Edward knew damn well his brother knew he was awake. In fact, he knew Alphonse had a catalog of every sound and expression Edward made, what caused them, what they meant, and what he could do to avoid seeing, hearing, or smelling them in the future if they proved to be of the unpleasant kind, as nearly half of them were. There was no more point in pretending he was asleep then there was in pretending he could feel the fingers of his right hand…

As if to double (triple, hundredth) check, he brought them together, clicking them against one and other with a quick little rhythm. It made a neat sound, but felt like not a thing.

"_Nii-san? _Are you asleep?"

Edward rolled over towards the wall, burying himself in the soft old quilt Granny had thrown on the end of his bed last night.

"_Yes_. Yes, I _am,_" came his muffled response from under the blanket.

"_Nii_-san."

He let out a mid-range heavy sigh, knowing his brother was flipping the pages of his mental Edward Gesture and Sound Catalog and would have arrived at the entry on "mild, but growing annoyance," and that, if he played his cards, and his sounds right, he might just get back to sleep yet.

Unfortunately, Alphonse had a card of his own to play…

Dialing back his tone, his brother let a little of that adorable (and it was _very _adorable) little boy's exuberance seep into his voice and … and Edward pretty much melted like a popsicle in the sun…

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You just _did_, idiot," Edward said, grinning.

Alphonse was clearly determined to Have This Conversation. (Whatever it was.)

There was still a chance he could get back to sleep, though. Edward knew his brother as well as his brother knew him. All he had to do was distract him into forgetting what he'd wanted to ask… 

"You just _did_… _Get it?_" Ed let out a breathy giggle. "_That_ was a question … so you asked it already…" More airy snickering then a contented sigh. "'Night, Alphonse."

Resolute, he kept himself turned towards the wall.

The room was filled with silence again, save for the somewhat frightening sound of the metal plates of Alphonse's left knee rattling against each other, a thing that he did when he was either a) too excited about something to sit still, b) was growing annoyed at his brother, but was trying to restrain himself so they could avoid another one of those embarrassing armor/flesh puncturing incidents or c) _both…_

"_C'mon,_ Nii-san," Alphonse squeaked.

Edward rolled over then, eyes to his brother, and found himself a little awed by the sight: the moonlight streaming through the window behind him cast Al's bulky metal body in a golden glow, softening his sharp lines with luminescence, nearly making flesh of what was cold, lifeless armor.

Ed could swear he almost saw his brother _breathing_…

He couldn't help but shiver. Armor or no, Alphonse was a beautiful thing _– _inside _and _out

The issue now, though, was not whether his brother was beautiful. Or whether this Question he was so excited about asking was important enough to wake Ed out of a sound sleep for. Or if it was important enough to answer. It wasn't even about Edward feeling responsible for Alphonse having to live in this metal shell of a body and not wanting to ever deny him anything, no matter what or _when _he asked.

No, the real issue was which one of them had the stronger will.

Ed sighed through his nose, something he did a _lot_: like when he didn't know the answer to a simple and reasonable question that he _should _have; or when the bastard Colonel gave him a hard time about his penmanship and tried to talk him into carrying around a blasted _typewriter_ on the road – and he was trying hard not to swear (too much) at a superior officer (usually failing miserably); or when they were out of chocolate pudding in the commissary and promising himself a big, fat bowl of it as soon as he arrived at Central had been the _only _thing keeping him from throttling the ubiquitous screaming brat behind him who had been playing with his braid like it was the best toy _ever _and wasn't he just so happy to be _connected _to it!

…_Or _when he'd clearly, soundly, in no uncertain terms… _been beaten by the Master. _

Nose sigh.

"I'm not gonna get any sleep if I don't let you ask your question, am I?"

Alphonse's red eyes regarded him with a desperation that was quite endearing.

"Nii-san… It's just that… You're the only one who can answer it"

At this, Edward felt his big brother chest swell up with pride; it was kind of cool to be looked up to, he, the older, more mature one, he the seasoned State Alchemist. Cool, but it'd be muuuch cooler at, say 2 o'clock in the afternoon, than it was at _2 am…_

"All right, Al, but make it a quick one, OK? I hope you didn't wake me up from a nice, sound sleep for another one of your "if you combined silica with grass would you get a lawn you'd never have to mow," questions. Let's save the contemplation of the real heavy issues for daylight, OK? I'm exhausted. It's been a rough day…"

Suddenly, Alphonse started to snicker. In fact, he started to guffaw his hollow little head off.

It's been a rough day… 

Now what was so fricking funny about _that_?

"_Alphonse._"

Al didn't need to breath, so he never actually _got _out of breath, either from running through desert sands in 100 degree heat (that he did not feel), or carrying his brother's suitcase (and his _brother_) through that same 100 degree heat, or laughing until he wiped (non-existant) tears from his cold metal face and was fighting to take in breaths (that he didn't need to be taking)…

Sometimes, though, either out of habit, or just for affect, he _pretended _to have lungs anyway_…_

And from the way he was giggling, if he _had _needed to breath, he'd have passed out about three minutes ago.

Scowling now, Edward folded his arms across his chest and huffed in his brother's general direction, his good humor evaporated into so much thin air.

"It's much to late for theatrics, Alphonse. _You _may not need to sleep, but _I _do. In fact, I kind of _like _it – I like it more than being _laughed_ at by my little brother, especially at 2 in the morning, especially when I don't even know _why_."

Still "breathless," Alphonse waved a creaking, leather glove apologetically in his brother's direction.

"I… I'm sorry, Nii-san. I couldn't help it…" He broke into another fit of hysterics.

Ed was quickly losing patience. If Al had been looking in his Edward Catalog right then, he would have seen a perfect example of his brother's facial expression described on page 172, "pissed off and getting ready to scream obscenities," but of course, he was still shaking with mirth and Ed could only sit there and watch.

"_What!" _he grit out through tightly clenched teeth.

Al was waving both hands now, looking a little like a circus act, like he was trying to keep a row of plates spinning on pointed sticks or something…

"It's just that… you said _'rough.' _That's pretty funny, you know?" He seemed to he holding his breath just then, trying to stave off another fit of hysterics.

"Actually, Al, I _don't_ know. Ya wanna tell me just what's so fucking funny about the word _rough_?" He caught himself tapping his sockless automail foot on the wooden floor and quit it, hopefully before he'd roused Pinako, who was quite the little wolverine when she was woken up in the middle of the night.

Gathering himself on the edge of the bed, Alphonse propped himself up on a big, spiked elbow. (Since Pinako had put that sheet of steel mesh under the fitted cotton one, they didn't have to extricate those spiked elbows (or knees) from the mattress three times a night anymore…)

"_You had a rough day…" _Alphonse burst out, almost visibly grinning. Before Edward had the chance to ask him to explain that, Al went on, excitedly. "Tell me, Nii-san. _What's it like?"_

Golden eyebrows narrowed in annoyed confusion.

"What's _what _like, Alphonse?"

Al swung his heavy metal legs over the side of the bed with glee, somehow still managing to set them down gently on the floor. (Ed swore Alphonse would probably even _sneeze _politely, if he ever sneezed. Which he didn't. _At the moment.) _

"_You _know…" He was leaning forward now and his left knee was rattling again. See choice "a"

_Nose sigh._

"If I knew, would I be _asking _you?" Something bounced off the back of his brain pan, on the way to his Random Comment Processing Center and bing just like that, current started to flow into his little _"Oooooh,"_ light bulb.

'It's been a rough day…' 

Rough day…

What had he done today?

_Riding into Resembool, falling asleep on the train, waking up and seeing … seeing 'Winry Rockbell' etched indelibly under a plate in the palm of his hand, jumping from the still moving train, beating a dusty path to the big faded yellow porch, risking the rath of Pinako in his screaming, red-hazed search for the girl, finding her on the back porch hanging up Granny's inordinately large unmentionables, as well as a few, tiny pink, flowered ones…_

Ed's lower lip went slack and he had to smack himself in the thigh to get his brain back on track…

_… straight to the moment she'd pinned him against the back of the house, brought her sun-freckled nose (and the rest of her face) up close, put her full, pink lips on his and … and changed his world forever…_

_'It's been a rough day…' _

Al was giggling again, this time more quietly.

From the feel of his cheeks and the way his head seemed like it was going to pop like a balloon and chase itself around the room, Ed would say he was blushing a rather intense shade of Mortified right now…

And Alphonse was _way _too excited for his own good.

"Yeah, _right_, like making out with Winry is 'rough.' All that soft skin, all those _curves_… That's definitely _my _idea of rough, Nii-san. _Definitely._" Elbows on his knees, Al propped his head up on big, leather hands. "So, tell me – _what was it like?"_

Ed's blush went from _'mortified'_ to _'squish me now, please.'_

He worked his jaw up and down a few times, but he hadn't found words to push through it yet, so it just flapped silently.

Alphonse stared at him, his mood starting to shift slightly into scary, patience-losing territory of its own.

"And don't give me that _"I don't kiss and tell" _crap, either. If I have to hear about how great chocolate pudding tastes, when I can't have any _myself_, or what it feels like when you jump in the river for a swim on a really hot day, but I can't go in myself because you keep telling me I can't get wet, if I get to hear about every girl that's asked you for directions and checked out your butt as you walked away, if I … if I have to listen to your description of what your last really good _poop _felt like, you can bet your tiny, little "chick-magnate" b-butt I'm gonna hear about _this!"_

Edward's brain had shorted out. Not a single thought floated across its bumpy grey surface. His mouth had dropped open and stayed that way and a tiny bubble of drool was poised to descend from his lower lip.

After a moment, words started to form, but they made little sense. His sanity was doing the best it could, but the usually helpful rage had found itself a nice big rock to hide under and was doing its damndest to pretend it didn't exist…

_I don't really talk about my BMs, do I? I'm such an asshole… _

_Chocolate pudding is **good**. How can I not talk about it…_

_OK, maybe crowing about how great swimming feels when it's hot out is a little cruel. I can stop doing that easy…_

…_but **I **can't help it if my butt is a chick-magnate…_

When he'd finally processed all the silly, peripheral information, his brain finally got around to the Big One.

**_I made out with … with Winry on the back porch for over an hour and a half today! _**

He looked over at his brother who was leaning farther forward. His _right _knee was rattling now.

_Al **knows **about it! How does **Al **know all about it?" _

Reality socked him right in the stomach.

_And if Al knows, that mean Granny knows, too! If that's true, why am I still **alive**!_

His fear began to blubber like an idiot, remembering the last time Granny Pinako had had reason to be angry with Edward, and it wasn't a pretty picture.

He'd called her in the middle of the night (why was it always the middle of the night!) to tell her that his knee cap had fallen off. Well, 'fallen off' wasn't entirely accurate. It was more like it had been smashed in and _then _fallen off. And it had gotten smashed in (and fallen off) because he'd been running through an alley in the dark chasing a pick-pocket who'd had the temerity to take his wallet. And the wallet wasn't really the reason he was chasing the jerk; after he'd taken Edward's wallet he'd had the nerve to complain about what a difficult time he'd had _taking _it because Edward's pockets, being on Edward's _midget _body, (_grrrrr…_) were farther down then he was used to having to reach… and Edward was so distracted, and half-blind from the rage spots floating in front if his eyes and … and wasn't watching where he was going and he'd run into a wall… Bam! Busted kneecap… He'd called _Pinako _because he'd thought she was the safer of the two; he'd been _afraid _to call Winry. For some reason, he'd forgotten that a) Winry was her grandmother's granddaughter and b) she'd learned everything thing she knew about pitching a fit from the old woman…

Crying like a baby, fear finally exhausted itself and was laying, prostate in a corner.

That's when his hormones, gleeful for the break in the brain chatter and thrilled to finally, _finally _get some air time, got together, en masse, and began flashing images of his make-out session with Winry through his poor, bedraggled brain…

_Winry pressed against him, his back to the house, feeling her … her curves; even through all those layers of clothing he wore (why **did **he wear so much clothing?) he could feel her …her soft…soft body…_

_Winry's lips against his, her tongue tracing the line of his own; suckling, licking, biting,_

_…oh…_

_The little noises she made in the back of her throat when he stroked her tongue with his, the way her breath caught when he'd spun her around and pressed himself into her… there…_

South of the border, he was starting to go numb. His lower lip was contemplating going slack enough to start drooling again, when his speech center, which had been on hold during the slide show, decided it had something to say.

_You're brother's still sitting there staring at you, you know. He's waiting for an answer. What are you going to tell him? _

Al _was _sitting there staring at him, somehow, after all that impatience, calmly waiting.

_I don't know… I don't--I **don't **kiss and tell… Well, I've never kissed anyone to not tell before, but … but I don't want to talk about Winry's lips and Winry's… drool with my little brother… Too weird, too weird… And also, kind of **wrong**…_

Another image, really, more of a physical memory; the feeling of her pressed tightly against him, the relief, the pure pleasure of it… Ahhhh, why did I wait so long to do that? 

Of it's own accord (or was sanity involved?), his flesh hand came up to smack him in the forehead.

_If it were up to you, you'd **still **be waiting! She kissed **you**_.

His sanity and the cherub that stood in for his heart were dancing in circles, arms around each other.

Edward closed his eyes against the image of them kissing gleefully and, his vision clearing, he looked back to his brother.

"I…I…" was all he could manage to say, though.

"Were her lips soft?" All innocence and youthful curiosity, Al was just trying to be helpful, but his question just revived the short in Ed's brain and his head suddenly began filling with static.

Or maybe it was just the sound of his brain dribbling happily out his ear.

"Did she make noises when you were kissing her? You know – those little noises in the back of the throat that—"

Edward had found his voice.

"H-how would _you _know about the little noises in the back of a girl's throat when she's kissing you!"

He fixed him with a narrow look. How would his little brother, who didn't even _have _lips, know something like that? Besides which, he liked to think of his little brother as his _little brother_, like, he was still eleven years old. And not thinking about kissing girls or the noises they make when you're doing something to them that they really like.

"Got something you want to share with me, Alphonse?"

Alphonse forced "air" through his non-existent nose, laughing in an embarrassed sort of way. "No, no… It's just something I read about in a book the Colonel lent me…"

As if on cue, rage had popped up from under its rock and was skipping happily back to the speech center of Ed's brain.

"Colonel Mustang lent you a book about," he paused here, trying to get his mouth around that one tiny, little word. "…_sex_! Just why the hell would the Bastard Colonel lend you a book about…" Rage was having a fine old time now. It poked him in the side so that he squeaked out the next word. **_"…SEX?"_**

Alphonse had jumped to his feet, backing away from his red-faced brother.

"Relax, Nii-san!" Al was waving his hands in front of him again. "The Colonel was just worried about you. The book was for _you_."

_Relax! _

At this, all of Team Edward came on board; rage, sanity, fear, the dorks in the speech center, a chorus of frustrated hormones, even one that hadn't spoken up yet, his somewhat overworked pride.

**"THE BASTARD COLONEL GAVE YOU A BOOK ON …. SEX BECAUSE HE WAS WORRIED… ABOUT _ME_!"**

Al was gesturing to get him to calm down, though.

"You know, Nii-san," Al said, gently, as though trying to change the subject. "You really shouldn't call him that. I know for a fact the Colonel's parents were _married_…."

Ed grit his teeth in an attempt to keep the decibel level down. If he scared his brother too much, he'd never get the answer out of him.

"Tell me, Alphonse… Why is the … the _Colonel _worried about me?"

The guys in the speech center were cheering, congratulating themselves for having pulled off such a mild-sounding question.

So why wasn't Al reassured? He was edging himself towards the closet and had his hand on the knob…

"Well… um, now remember, Nii-san, I'm just telling you what the Colonel said…"

Ed blinked several times in a forced attempt at calm innocence. "Of course, Al. Now go on…"

"…um, he said…" Al glanced out the window as if wondering how far a drop it was to the ground. "…he said he thought you needed an … an _outlet_… That you were…" A big leather hand was turning the doorknob, slowly pulling the closet door open. "He thought you were wound a little too tightly—"

"Too tightly!" Ed started out trying to sound calm, but rage and pride were pushing on his vocal cords and in two seconds, he was screaming again.

**"TOO TIGHTLY! TOO TIGHTLY FOR WHAT, ALPHONSE!"**

"…too tightly for someone who's old enough to be … having sex or at least, _masturbating _on a regular basis…" The last few words were said from the other side of the closet door.

With the whole of the Team trying to scream at once, Ed was having a difficult time forming words.

"Wha—sex—" His mouth suddenly felt like the desert surrounding Lior: dry and dusty. "Mast—"

Just then, rage muscled sanity and pride under and the rest of the team folded like jello.

**"HOW THE HELL CAN I MASTURBATE! _I'M NEVER ALONE!"_**

"I know! _I know_," came Al's muffled apology from behind the door. "I'm sorry, Nii-san!" There was a pause, then Al's sweetly placating voice. "You know, Nii-san… You're kind of alone _now_…"

_Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhhhh! _

Why was everyone so friggin' interested in his sex life!

Nose sigh.

Because he didn't _have _one?

_He's right, you know, _his hormones chimed in. _Technically, you **are **alone…_

_**"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"**_

Ed was just wondering what it was going to take to get all the voices, inside and outside his head, to just shut the fuck up and leave him alone, when the sound of a loud, demonic thumping filled the room.

**THUMP – THUMP – THUMP **

Spooked, Ed turned to look at the closet, thinking maybe Al was knocking from the inside, for some silly reason.

**THUMP – THUMP **

It was definitely not coming from the closet.

And it was not some sort of demon. There were no such things as demons.

_No… _

No, this was much, _much _worse.

It was coming from Granny Pinako's room.

Right below their's…

From the sound of it, Granny was pounding on the ceiling with a broom handle, something she hadn't done since they'd giggled themselves to sleep as children.

**THUMP – THUMP**

Must have been a really long broom….

**"WOULD YOU NIT-WITS SHUT YOUR YAPS ALREADY! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS!"**

It was amazing that a sound that loud could come out of a body that small.

Edward could actually hear Alphonse's knees rattling from the depths of the closet.

"I-I'M SORRY, GRANNY!" Cupping a hand to his mouth, Ed called his apologies to the floor. "WE'LL KEEP IT DOWN!"

"SEE THAT YOU DO!" She punctuated that last order with another, slightly softer THUMP. "YOU DO NOT WANT ME TO COME UP THERE, YOUNG MAN!"

No, they most certainly did not want that!

Apparently, not reassured that her message had made it home, Granny rapped again, and again the tone had a softer, fleshy-sounding timber.

And the rapping continued. And…and it wasn't coming from below anymore.

It was coming from the hallway!

Pinako was making good on her threat! She'd come up to there to … to …

Edward didn't want to think about what she might have come up there to do. Replace his automail with standing mixer attachments? Substitute them for the pink chrome ones they were making for that little girl in Central? Attach his elbow gears to the washing machine and make him do laundry for the entire village? In his underwear?

Edward shuddered.

_Nooooo… _

"WE'RE SORRY, GRANNY! REALLY WE ARE!" Edward numbly headed himself to do door, where Pinako was still rapping with great determination, obviously looking forward to extracting her revenge on them. "WE'LL BE QUIET FROM NOW ON, WE PROMISE!" Ed was practically sobbing when he opened the door.

Shaking like a leaf, he lowered his eyes, out of respect, out of fear, and, well, out of necessity; Pinako's face would been level with of the doorknob…

He had only seconds to register, not the eyes of a crazed Granny Pinako, but the smooth thighs and frilly, pink sleep shorts of Winry, before her hand reached in to grab his arm and yank him into the hallway.

Her cheeks were a bright pink and she looked at him almost shyly.

That only lasted for a second.

Then she backed him into the wall and proceeded to shower his face with kisses.

"_Thank you_," she breathed in his ear. "Thank you _so _much."

Not that he was complaining, but he was more than a little confused. Or that might have been his hormones, who were dancing around like mad elves in his head. And elsewhere.

"F-for what?"

She was working on his neck now and he was almost sorry he'd asked her a question; she was going to have to stop what she was doing to answer it…

Winry pulled away and stood smiling softly at him.

"For protecting my _honor_, you idiot."

Thankfully, she went back to sucking on his ear lobe.

Sanity had directed him to move his hands to her back and he was grateful for the direction. The sleep shirt she was wearing was as thin as tissue and the skin beneath it was hot and smooth.

"You're welcome," he managed, but his speech center was overloaded at the moment and it was clear he wouldn't be able to talk much longer. "How did I do _that_?"

"Alphonse tried to get you to tell him about what we … we did today," he could _feel _her blushing, her face against his suddenly got very hot, and the knowledge of it went straight to his heart. (The cherub was ecstatic.) "You wouldn't do it. Thank you for that."

Hands on her face, he drew her far enough away to look in her eyes.

"I always tell him everything. I feel like I kind of owe him that, you know? 'Cause he can't experience anything for himself… But," he drew a thumb across her pinkened cheek. "…but it didn't seem _right_. This _one thing _he can't have." He traced the edge of her lower lip with a finger, then, hesitating only slightly, he drew her face to his and kissed her, smiling when he heard the tiny, whimper in the back of her throat.

"_That_," he said, softly. "That little sound is _mine_."

There was mischief in her eyes, and no ire in her voice when she spoke. "Still pissed that I"branded" you?"

Lips at her throat, he suckled deeply. "Uh-huh." Gently at first, then with growing heat, he applied teeth to the spot, an act he knew would mark her, at least for a few days. She shuddered against him. "I'll be looking for a more _permanent _method…"

She _was _his. Had always _been _his. He was just glad she'd forced him to see that. Finally. Even if it had taken a full-out mad to get them to this point.

He found her mouth again and shivered when her tongue slipped past his, exploring, tasting.

"Oh, _Edward_," she breathed, pulling them more tightly together.

He thought he'd go mad from the sensations; he could feel _all _of her, _everywhere._

Backing off a few inches, he fought for control.

"I-I have to get back to … to bed. It's the middle of the night. And…and we're in the hallway… And…"

She was nodding slowly, biting her lip.

"I know…" She was gazing at him with the greatest longing. "_Tomorrow_, though," she breathed, squeezing the hand she held.

"Tomorrow?"

His brain was hormone addled and, of late, had suffered from a round of mental gymnastics that would have tired a _roomful _of geniuses, but, even a thorough search of his mental files would have turned up zilch: he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Grandma's trip into the field?" Eyebrows narrowing, it was her turn for confusion. "Didn't Al tell you?"

Al was supposed to tell him Granny was going into the field?

"What field trip?"

"She's going on a 10-day trip to service some clients in the field. Alphonse said _he_ wanted to tell you… He's going _with _her. Sort of a bodyguard arrangement, I think. Grandma told him she didn't _need _a bodyguard, that she can take care of herself."

"Yes, she certainly can."

"But Al _insisted _he go with her… It was weird…"

Not so weird.

Ed felt himself blushing. Winry mistook herself for the inspiration, blushing gently in return, and Ed would never disabuse her of the notion, but the real reason, the real reason he was blushing, the real reason Alphonse was going out in the field with Pinako, on a 10 day trip… was to give the two of them time…

_Time to be alone… _

For once, the chorus in his head was quiet.

Ed took the opportunity to kiss Winry again, sweetly.

"We'd better get back to sleep then," Winry said. "The house will be in chaos tomorrow morning." Pulling away, he was taken aback by a sudden mischievous look in her wide, blue eyes. "Here's something for you to think about for now, though…"

With a slight blush, but not a hint of hesitation, she slipped a hand between them, and finding the area he'd been resolutely ignoring since she'd yanked him out of his bedroom, _she held him there. _The heat of her hand, and the heat that had already been growing there, went right to his brain and then bounced straight back to his groin.

Seeing him wide-eyed and slack-jawed, she giggled, then ran her tongue along the curve of his jaw.

"Tomorrow," she breathed hotly into his ear, then, releasing him, she moved down the hall. To the next room.

_Her room was next door to their's._

Her room had _always _been next door to their's…

Still too stunned by her actions to allow sanity to smack him in the head, he had at least regained the use of his voice before she'd disappeared into her room.

"You…you heard the _entire _conversation, didn't you…"

"Uh-huh," she whispered, sweetly.

He should have been mortified, some small part of him was, but he was too turned on to care right now.

Right now he…

"OK," he said, absently, turning back to his door. "I'll see you in the morning…"

She nodded, biting her lip. "Yup."

With a last glance at those frilly pink sleep shorts before they disappeared behind her door, Edward stiffly pushed himself inside his room.

His mind was racing. Parts of him were so numb, he was lucky he could walk at all.

Sweating profusely, he grabbed a book from the table and fished a flashlight out of the desk drawer.

_He'd show everyone just who needed an outlet… _

Swinging the closet door open with way more strength than he needed, he found his brother sitting calmly in the corner, behind some old suits and a beat up tennis racket.

"You wanna help me, Al? _Here_," he dropped the book and the flashlight into his brother's metal lap. "Don't come out until I _tell _you to."

He heard Al's gleeful, "Sure thing, Nii-san!" as he slammed the door closed, quietly, of course, and he was in bed and under the covers in no time flat.

_The Fullmetal Alchemist – tightly wound!_

_Ha!_

_Not tonight, he wasn't…_

Before the heat overtook his brain, he could have sworn he heard bed springs creaking from the other side of the wall. The wall they shared with Winry's room…

It could have been the swing creaking on the porch downstairs, it could have been the hot water heater kicking in in the basement. Heck, it could have been Alphonse crossing his knees in the closet…

Didn't matter.

Edward let the thought of it, that it was _none _of those things, those things that were unrelated to him, slip from his mind and, focused on the possibility that that steady, rhythmic sound was coming from the other side of his wall, Edward _unwound…._

_fin…_


	3. Preview

**Title: **One and a Half Weeks, (Branded, Chapter 3 – PREVIEW)  
**Part:** 3/3  
**Author:** ibshafer  
**Rating:** PG  
**Character/Pairing:** WinXEd  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.  
**Summary:** This is just a PREVIEW of Chapter 3, in which Ed and Winry spend some quality time alone together…  
**Warnings:** some kissy-face stuff, nothing explicit  
**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; Humor/Romance  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Feedback:** 'twould make me a happy FMA camper, yes it would…

**NOTE:** this scene appears later in the story

"_Ed._ Stop squirming."

Edward huffed once, shifting around in the chair like a 5-year old at the barber. "Is this really necessary?"

Hefting the tool in her right hand, she passed it between her fingers like a pro.

"Yes. It _is…"_

Ed rolled his eyes. "The last time you had your hands in my hair, you nearly pulled half of it out by the _roots."_

Winry quirked an eyebrow. "See, and I'm remembering it differently, 'cause the _last _time I had my hands in your hair, I seem to remember you weren't complaining too much…" She fixed him with a meaningful look and was rewarded when he flushed a lovely shade of pink. "'sides, you're starting to look a little _scruffy_."

She bit back a laugh, watching him battle it out over which word he was going to react to…

Edward, for once, took the high ground.

"Who're you calling _"scruffy-looking," _he asked, sounding deeply insulted. Gold eyebrows pinched together, he peered out from behind his wet bangs.

"_You_, you idiot," she said, but her voice was soft and her hands were on his face and when she kissed him she made for damn sure he knew she _meant _it.

Ed's answering moan was involuntary and barely audible, but it made her toes curl just the same.

She pulled away from him slowly so she could see the look on his face; sweetly blissed, eyes still closed, lips parted, breath coming in quiet, ragged pants.

Winry shivered.

No matter how many times she saw it, she'd never get enough of it; she relished every tiny, little sign of her affect on him. After all those years of thinking he was ignoring her…

She brought him round with a kiss to the end of his nose, her hands still cupped round his face, stroking his skin, idly.

Hmmmm… 

She caught him staring at her and realized she was rubbing his chin rather roughly.

"_What?" _His voice held a hint of confusion, but with her hands still squeezing his cheeks, the word just sounded silly, more "wert" than "what."

Annoyed, (Edward hated sounding silly), he pulled back and away. "What're you thinking. You're making me nervous…"

"Well…" She leaned in, rubbing her cheek against the side of his face. "Yep, _definitely_."

Now he looked downright afraid.

"'_What' _definitely?"

"Edward, when was the last time you shaved…?"

"_S-shaved?" _

An hour later, he was sitting next to the upturned basin in a puddle of soapy water, growling under his breath, water dripping off the end of his aquiline nose, his face covered with tiny scraps of tissue.

Tissue dotted with blood.

His blood… 

How was _she _to know she was supposed to shave his _face _differently than she did her _legs_? Skin was skin, right?

Of course, her legs weren't bloody right now and his face, most definitely, _was_…

She felt _awful_.

She felt incredibly awful, but it would not do to let Ed know that.

He would never let her live it down…

Taking a different tack ('_distract him until he forgets what he was upset about,'_ which she'd found, on occasion, actually _worked_), she just shook her head at him.

"You are _such _a big baby!"

Plastering on her best patronizing look, and she had more than one, she rolled her eyes at him, being careful to stay out of arms reach. (She was grateful that she hadn't let him talk her into adding the extra plates to his forearm that he'd begged for last year. It would have allowed him to extend his hand almost a foot beyond his normal reach. Somehow she'd just _known _she'd regret that one some day…)

As if on cue, Edward scowled at her, face flushing with offense.

"Who're you calling a baby?" 

It was working almost too well…

Pretending to lose her patience, she stared him straight in the eye.

"How many years have you been on this earth, Edward?"

He stared back at her, utterly confused.

"Is this a trick question?"

Nose sigh.

"Yes, idiot. It _is_… Now answer it."

A gave a nose sigh of his own.

"_You _know I'm seventeen, Winry." Edward pressed his lips into a thin line.

"So, _what _– you've been talking since, well, pretty much since the day you were _born_, and you've been asking that question… pretty much since the day you were born…."

The look on his face said that Edward didn't see where this was going; his brow started to gather dangerously.

"What question are you talking about, Winry," he asked, voice a low rasp.

"The _"Who're you calling a – fill-in-the-blank!"_ question."

She took in the anger collecting itself on his face, considered dropping the whole thing, decided it would be worth it, and went on.

"Without fail, _every single time it's asked_, what is the **_answer _**to that question, Edward?"

Arms folded against his bared chest, a prodigious frown on his face, Edward did not reply.

"**_You_**…. The answer is _always _you! So why do you keep asking it?"

She couldn't hold it any longer, finally allowing her face to soften.

"You silly, silly, _beautiful _boy! You are so _incredibly _brilliant and yet time after time, you set yourself up for that. Why? What do you have to prove, Ed?"

She wrapped her arms around his bristling body, momentarily taken aback by his stiffness, but she had no intention of taking his body's "no" for an answer; she held on, hands stroking his smooth back until he gave up and gave in with a heavy sigh.

"You _like _making fun of me…" he muttered, but his hands were on her waist and his breath was warm on her neck.

"No, Edward. I like _you_." She pulled him closer, pleased when she heard him gasp at the sensation.

She held him that way for a moment, enjoying the feel of his chest rising and falling against her own, thrilled when his fingers traced her spine through the fabric of her shirt.

Sighing, she pressed her lips to his neck, kissing him softly, then drew away.

"You have no idea how perfect you already _are_, do you?"

When she saw him blush, she kissed him again, this time on the mouth and the way he held back, as if suddenly unsure of himself, lips tentative against hers, made her press into him more closely, trying to convince him of her words with her tongue and her breath.

"Why do you have to be _everything_, all at once, Edward? Why do you have to be six feet tall? Why do you have to solve every mystery? Have the answer to every question?"

She drew away from him, held him at arms' length, taking him all in. She imagined she could see his good, kind, moral heart beating in his chest, that she could hear the wheels turning in his gifted mind, trying to work out every problem there was, trying to redeem himself for the pain he'd brought to the ones he loved. And on the surface, she saw the strong features of his face, his wide amber eyes; full lips; his long, smooth neck, broad chest, skin almost golden, almost _glowing…_

The sight of him made her shiver unconsciously.

She saw him smile in answer and run a warm hand up her arm.

Which made her shiver again.

"You couldn't be more perfect than you already _are_, Edward."

His face softened, the flush deepening and suddenly shy, he looked away, smiling.

"_That's _why I love you, you _idiot_…"

"Stop calling me an idiot," he said softly, eyes still fixed on the window, but dancing with mirth.

"_Make me," _she breathed.

And he _did_…

_tbc…_


	4. Learning Curve Pt 1

_Just a note to all you yaoi readers out there: the statement noted with a "asterick" is **not** a veiled indictment of RoyXEd yaoi (I LOVE RoyXEd yaoi!); this comment is just that – a comment made by Winry, who in fact, is most likely not a RoyXEd yaoi reader… I'm just saying… ;-)_

**Title:** Learning Curve  
**Part:** 3/7 (Branded – series)  
**Author:** ibshafer  
**Rating:** R  
**Character/Pairing:** EdXWin… or is it WinXEd?…  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.  
**Summary:** In which Edward and Winry get some alone time…and in which the course of true love runs anything but smoothly… **Warnings:** sexual situations, but nothing too explicit  
**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; AU, I guess…  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Feedback:** _Yes_, please…

Learning Curve

_ibshafer_

Ed was remotely aware of the fact that he was smiling and that it was likely that he had been _doing _so for some time now. He knew this because his face, somewhat unused to this particular arrangement of muscle over bone, was screaming at him to just '_lay the hell off and **relax **already!_'

He was pretty sure this was the best he'd ever felt in his entire, miserable life; a combination of being warm, safe, fed and dry (four things he very rarely was at the same time), and feeling secure and cared for (two things he never, EVER was).

In short: it was shaping up to be Edward Elric's best day ever.

The cherub that stood in for his heart had gotten a real workout and until just recently, had been banging itself against his ribs with manic glee. Similarly, the rest of Team Elric, whose spirited cheering had sounded somewhat like blood rushing in his ears, had finally exhausted itself and was now happily sleeping in another room, collective mouths agape.

Sleep was sounding pretty good to him, too. In fact, sleep seemed to be a biologic _imperative _at this point, but there was an odd sound in the room, one he was for a time hard-pressed to put a name to, until, with a bing! of comprehension, it came to him, in the way that all things outside of ourselves, eventually, _do_…

"Winry?"

She was no longer breathing heavily – he remembered now that they'd both been doing a lot of that not too long ago – but her respiration still wasn't entirely normal; it was oddly uneven and kept catching in the back of her throat. She'd also rolled onto her side, away from him, which he thought was strange.

Chapter 3 had said women liked to cuddle afterwards, but she wasn't acting like she wanted to do that. Hadn't she read chapter 3? (Edward had to admit, after Chapter 2, and particularly, after _Diagram 4_ in Chapter 2, he'd been somewhat inclined to stop right there… well, at least for a _little _while…)

If he didn't know better, he'd have said she was _crying…_

"Y-you OK?"

He touched her bare back with a flesh finger, gently, he'd thought, but she flinched all the same and buried her head in the pillow, lungs still hitching oddly.

There could be no mistaking it now: _Winry was crying._

Denial, that smooth talker, no doubt drawn to the Speech Center by the previous commotion, offered up a thought.

_Maybe she's crying tears of joy?_

Edward looked at her shaking form, knowing damn well that were she joyful, as joyful as he would have thought she'd be after what they'd just done together, the Winry _he _knew would for damn sure not have expressed that joy with tears…

_What if…_

What if he'd _hurt _her! He'd never done this before, what if he'd gotten carried away and not been gentle enough? _Or at all? _

He'd never forgive himself if he'd hurt her!

He rolled toward her, hand poised above her smooth shoulder, wanting to touch her again, worried she might not _want_ him to.

"Did I… Please tell me you're okay, Winry. Did I… did I _hurt _you?"

And then he did touch her and she let him, ever-so-slightly leaning into his hand.

She drew her face from the pillow, but still didn't look at him.

"It… It's okay, Ed…" She paused for a moment, as though unsure what to say. "I-It was my first time, too. I knew it was gonna hurt…"

He _had _hurther!

His head filled with air and the room started to tilt to the left and right.

Before he had the chance to transmute his hand into a sledgehammer and pound his own skull in, she was speaking again, her voice calm, if a little breathless.

"It's not your fault, Ed. It was gonna happen no matter what…" She straightened a little, wiggling tentatively. "It's not so bad anymore, really," she said, but her voice was unsteady, her tone contradicting the statement. He saw her reach up to brush a fresh wave of tears from her cheeks.

_Not so bad anymore…_

So why was she still crying?

"Then… then what's wrong, Winry? Shouldn't you be… I dunno, _singing_ or something?"

He saw her jaw tighten and while he wanted to think she was suppressing some mirth at an inadvertent joke he might have made, he seriously doubted that was it. In fact, he could almost hear the Angry collecting itself in her lithe frame, building itself up for the meltdown to come.

"This was a _big thing _for me, Ed," she cried, voice rising an octave, face still fixed to the far wall where a decorative array of hand tools lay spread out on a dusty shelf. Ed noted that the while the shelf was in need of a good, focused clean, the tools themselves were well oiled and fairly sparkled, unlike their owner who was looking brittle and self-righteous at the moment. "A _really _big thing!"

"For me, _too!_" Ed blurted out, pulling himself up on his elbow to peer into her reddening face.

Feeling him loom over her, she curled in on herself again, pulling away from him.

"I've thought about being with you, l-like that, for a long, long time," she whispered, the tears starting to fall in earnest now.

Ed shook his head, listening to his brain rattle against his skull for a moment.

Just what the hell was she talking about?

So, she'd thought about having _sex _with him and they'd _had _it. (As the word "sex" tumbled across his frontal lobe, the geeks in the Speech Center sprang instantly to attention, roused from their previous stupor by the sound of a word more interesting than they were normally used to hearing, and set off at a run, chasing it down into the far reaches of Ed's medulla oblongata, tripping over each other to get to it first.) Ed failed to see the problem here.

Want + Have equals Good. Right?

Winry spoke again in a teary, breathless tone, her voice so quiet, he almost couldn't hear her.

"I'd built it up in my mind until it was this huge thing and… and…"

Edward sighed heavily, suddenly annoyed with her.

Wasn't it just like her to not be happy when everyone else was? Wasn't it like her to not be _satisfied_ with anything?

_Satisfied..._

The word jumped out of the internal speakers in the Speech Center and bounced around his cranium a few times before it knocked into the lobe that handles comprehension and **_stuck_** there.

_Satisfied..._

She wasn't_ satisfied_.

_Oh, no… I --- I **s-suck**…_

(Section break – because ffn won't let you do this any other way…)

Winry was trying her damndest to stop sniveling, but her eyes had decided they didn't care what _she _wanted to do, they were gonna leak all over her face and pillow whether she liked it or not.

Besides, it's not like she didn't have a reason to cry.

Earlier, she'd listened to him over there, on the other side of the bed, as his breath had finally begun to wind its way back down to normal. Every so often, he'd let out a soft, faintly satisfied sigh. It was a gratifying sound, one that might have made her smile and feel a little light in the head, if she weren't feeling light in the head for another, less happy reason.

Not for the first time, she'd begun to wonder how she was going to tell him.

Maybe she didn't _have _to.

_How could she not…?_

From the noises he was making, and those he'd been making not too long ago, there could be no doubting how Edward felt right now: blissed, happy, _satisfied._

If only she could say the same…

(Section break – because ffn won't let you do this any other way…)

He was about to start apologizing and begging her forgiveness, when pride and rage got into a fistfight over who was going to talk first. Pride won, of course.

This couldn't be _his _fault – _he'd _done all the work – maybe she was supposed to do something, too? He'd taken care of _him_, maybe she needed to take care of _her_? That was _it_: she must have forgotten to do something. Afterall, he had a book, but she was the one with all the information. She swore this was her first time, but she sure knew an awful lot for a _virgin_…

Just then, Ed heard the words bouncing around his head and felt like every bit the major shit he was acting.

He wasn't being fair to her, pride be damned…

(Pride stuck its tongue out at him and stalked off for the snack bar.)

Sure she was emotionally obsessive, downright _abusive_, sometimes, and sure, she'd practically raped him in the hallway last night (well, maybe that was going a bit far), but that didn't mean she wasn't innocent. It just meant that she'd thought about doing this …_a lot_.

And that she'd really, really wanted to do this with _him_…

Ed took in a deeply grateful breath and let it out slowly.

Well, at least one of them was happy about that…

(Section break – because ffn won't let you do this any other way…)

She'd been kind of amazed at how little he'd known. Stunned, in fact.

Out there on the road all those years, looking like sex on a stick (with a candy coating), how was it that no one had approached him? How was it that he hadn't thought of it himself? Not that she wasn't _pleased _he hadn't tested those waters with some damsel in distress in some back-water, back-desert town, but she wasn't an idiot; she wasn't delusional enough to think it was because he'd been saving himself for _her_.

No, that was _her _particular torch to carry. Along with her toolbox and her link to his past. Come to think of it, it was a pretty damn heavy _load_…

But still, he was grand and quite glorious, all 5 foot, 2 inches of him.

Winry suppressed an inward shiver as an image sprang to life on the big screen in her head: 12-year old Edward, fully recovered from grueling automail surgery and an inhumanly brief recovery period, sparring with his now armored brother down by the river, jumping like a flash of lightning through the grass, practically _flying _over Alphonse's spiked head, muscles etched beneath his pale skin, his body not like any 12-year old _she'd _ever seen.

He'd taken her breath away and just twelve herself, she'd hardly understood why…

But here it was five years later and he knew nothing about … _that_? Hadn't he ever been curious? Hadn't he ever been _offered_ the chance?

Well, ignorant or not, curious or not, he was here with her now, interested, eager and very, very hot.

_Oh, god… _

She'd shivered, just looking at him.

She vowed to make the experience a life-changing one for both of them and though he was hesitant, still unsure of protocols or procedures, and she herself had never actually had the chance to put theory into practice, she'd boldly taken the lead…

(Section break – because ffn won't let you do this any other way…)

He'd been oddly quiet at first, but then she'd reminded him that Granny and Al were at that very moment on a train speeding in the opposite direction and that their nearest neighbors were more than five miles away.

Kissing him on the throat, she'd told him to make all the noise he wanted to.

He'd blushed his beautiful head off, she'd been blushing herself, amazed at her own words and her own actions, but he'd happily complied.

Early on, she'd noted that he was quick to let her know what he liked, but as time went by she realized it'd be more accurate to say that he simply liked _everything: _her fingertip circling a nipple – _good_; her tongue behind his ear – _gooood; _an earlobe drawn between her lips – _**very** good._

Edward had sighed and giggled and hissed in turn and she'd been pleased: happy that she could make him happy.

Still in the blind-bliss stage, she hadn't noticed certain things.

If she'd been paying attention, if she'd been thinking about someone other than Ed, say, for instance, _herself_, she might not be in the situation she was right now…

(Section break – because ffn won't let you do this any other way…)

_Where did she learn to do that?_

Ed's hormone-saturated brain was foggy with pleasure, his skin sensitive, his muscles seemingly useless. He was putty in her skilled mechanics hands. He was Putty Boy – unable to do more than feel and, every so often, go _spastic _with pleasure. He'd forgotten how to use his legs. He'd forgotten his arms were attached to his body. He'd, basically, forgotten he had a _brain. _(His brain, for its part, was quite miffed about that.) In short, he'd plum forgotten there was something that could, if directed, animate said arms and said legs to do interesting and pleasurable things to anyone, say, within fingers reach; anyone, say, doing interesting and pleasurable things to _him _with arms and legs. And fingers and lips. And…

Ed's brain went white and he forgot to breath for a little while…

She was running her hands over his chest, touching places with her tongue he'd never considered having touched that way before and as some of his blood boiled up into his ears and the rest of it rushed in the _opposite _direction, it never occurred to him that he needed to be doing anything other than enjoying the hell out himself.

Which he was.

_Oh, boy…_

(Section break – because ffn won't let you do this any other way…)

Ed's moans were almost thanks enough.

Winry had heard Ed moan before but usually as a result of some manipulation of his arm or leg port, or the corresponding appendage, and never, _ever_, did it mean something _good_. (Though she did recognize the glazed look in his amber eyes…)

His mouth had fallen open, his jaw was slack, and his golden eyes had rolled back into his head. And she hadn't really _done _anything yet…

She felt all-powerful, she felt important, to _him;_ she loved seeing that look on his face and knowing she'd put it there. She would have gnawed her own left arm off (and then replaced it with automail, of course), if it meant she could make him look like that for the rest of her life.

And while _he _was enjoying the hell out of this, she was _too_. He was beautiful and warm and his skin tasted salty sweet and she knew she _should _have been scared, she knew she should have been _shy_, but this was _Edward _and he was finally _hers _and she was holding _nothing _back.

(Section break – because ffn won't let you do this any other way…)

It would surely have surprised anyone who knew him, or anyone who had ever _met _him, for that matter, but Edward Elric would actually be the _first _one to admit he was control freak.

As a point of fact, he was actually quite proud of it. It had served him well over the years. Where would he and Alphonse be if he'd regularly surrendered control of their lives, _what portion of hell? _He was not so arrogant, though, that he didn't see when he would be better _served_ by surrender.

So when they'd finally made it up the stairs, after having to _stop _at various points between the kitchen and her bedroom, he'd announced in what he thought was a magnanimous gesture, that he was going to _"let her drive…" _After all, even with that most amazing sexual resource, The Bastard's Sex Manual, as Ed had come to think of it, she still seemed to know so much more.

With a blush most endearing, and indeed, most gratifying, Winry confessed that in preparation for the day, if it ever came, that they were going to do …what they were currently about to do, she had been gathering …information. _For years. _(Ed's face had flushed hotly at this.)

She'd read everything she could get her hands on. She had coaxed details out of her more free-spirited friends, spent time in the library in the _dark _section, (the librarian, no doubt in an attempt to discourage underage curiosity, had chosen to remove nearly all of the light bulbs from the aisle on human sexuality…) and had even opened a special, anonymous box at the post office to receive additional _mail order _materials without her grandmother's knowledge. (Pinako would have locked her in the basement with nothing but a rubber band, and then, only after having removed every single piece of metal from the room…)

She said she'd spent many, _many _hours thinking about what she would do with his body if … _if _she were ever able to touch him without a wrench in her hand. In doing so, she appeared to have given her considerable imagination free and wild reign.

All of which one Edward Elric was about to become the recipient of…

(Section break – because ffn won't let you do this any other way…)

Edward, for his part, was _extremely _appreciative of her imagination.

Which was actually quite sad, as he seemed to have disappointingly _little _of it himself…

The voice of her fair-minded side reminded her that this was all new to him, too, and he had just been so overwhelmed with what he was feeling, what she was _making_ him feel, that _that _coupled with his inexperience understandably made him a little … _self-involved_.

She'd reminded herself, with not a little displeasure, that he'd _always _been a little self-involved. Except when it came to his brother, of course, and then with a devotion that was all consuming, awe-inspiring and, frankly, made her _almost _long to lose her own body, too.

_Almost…_

So, she wasn't actually surprised that she hadn't … quite… _gotten _there that first time. After all, it was a first for her, too, and there were certain … certainties involved with that milestone. Pair that with a partner unaccustomed to being with "anyone" other than his _right (or was it his **left?**) hand _… and it was not only understandable, it was to be expected. If she'd been seeing him with anything other than eyes blinded by a sheer, all-consuming devotion of her own, she might have even _predicted _it…

And so, an hour later when she felt him press himself urgently against her back – if she hadn't already been laying down, she would have _fallen _down from the jelly feeling that suddenly weakened her knees – and start to kiss her neck with real fervor, she was _more _than ready for another go…

Ten minutes after that, he again lay panting happily beside her.

And _she_? Again, it'd be unfair to say she'd taken no pleasure from it. She _loved _touching him, tasting his skin, seeing the bliss she brought to him. And he _was _energetic and very strong and _wonderfully _hard in all the right places – but again… _no ending_…

And so after giving herself so freely, after everything she'd done to please him, to not … quite… get there _herself:_ Winry was understandably frustrated…

Actually, she thought she was handling it rather well - the Rockbell women were tough as set screws - but there could be no denying what she was feeling, and that in the wake of their second try and the fact that he'd been utterly oblivious to her… _incompletion, _she was actually beginning to wonder if they'd _ever _get this thing right…

_(Section break – because ffn won't let you do this any other way…)_

It'd been so promising, too. He was so wonderfully _good _at kissing – rough and gentle in turn, warm and really _quite _passionate. And his hands, he'd known what to do with his hands; she especially liked the cold/hot feeling when he touched her with his flesh hand and his automail hand at the same time.

But that was on the back porch. And in the upstairs hallway before everyone else was awake. And on the kitchen counter after Granny and Al had left for the train station…

Blushing suddenly, she'd taken his hand – he'd been beautifully pink himself – and led him upstairs to her room.

Morning light was streaming in through the open bedroom window, casting his glorious body in a honeyed glow that made her shiver, making his golden hair, loose around his shoulders, look like a thing alive.

They started with an extremely satisfying make-out session in the doorway, wherein she introduced him to the concept of the "dry-hump" and he very willingly took the hint, and her proffered breast, touching her there for a good, long while, a look of wonder on his face the entire time.

His ragged breathing, and the tiny appreciative sounds he made, put her in a trance. For a moment, she could do nothing more than look at him.

From the expression on his face, it was clear he'd seen the expression on _her _face… and knew what it meant. For once, the ever-impatient Edward Elric didn't push; he was content to stand and be _appreciated…_

She marveled at his body; a body not just made complete by automail, but _perfected _by it.

She'd once been told that the material she'd used to make his limbs had been too heavy making the strain on his system too great, possibly stunting his growth, but she didn't believe that to be true. If anything, it was the opposite. She'd often mused that she had madehis _body_, not just his automail – opposing mechanical limbs had lead to muscles developed in a constant state of isometrics – and she was enormously proud and aroused by that thought.

She was ashamed to say she had often kidded him about his height, or the lack of it, but in truth there was not a _thing _lacking in him.

He was _perfect_.

From the tip of his slightly upturned nose, the part of his lush, golden hair, to the tips of his curled toes, automail and flesh, (and all points in between – _oh, the points in between_), he was a vision of perfection; the stuff that girlie dreams were made of…

She'd wanted to go slowly, make it all magical, birds singing, _tra-la-la_, that sort of thing, but she'd been too impatient to wait and had practically _torn _his shirt off. Rather than complain that she'd shredded a fine piece of his wardrobe, Edward had stared at her, amber eyes wide in disbelief … and _whooped with glee_.

Overcome by the sight of him, she'd launched herself at him, a frenzy of hands and lips. They'd fallen in a tangled mass on the bed, shedding clothes and, for her part, anyway, _inhibitions _and for a time, it was everything she'd dreamed it would be…

It was not long after this, though, that she noticed something was missing.

It's a wonder that she did, being so caught up in the taste of him, the _feel _of him, but ever observant to a fault, notice she did…

Like a little wheeled toy that runs solely on the power of the child whose hands control it, Edward was warm and responsive …_as long as she was moving her hands, or some other part of her, over him._ The minute she stopped, so too did Ed.

She experimented once or twice and sure enough, without Winry-power, the Ed-toy stopped dead, albeit "dead" with a big, loopy smile on its face…

Annoyed, but far too hot for him to stop now, she'd lowered herself on top of him, not the least displeased with his moaned response, and they continued.

Intoxicated with the feel, and the delicious _sound_, of skin on skin, she at first didn't notice certain things: every so often he would pause, freeze his body, and for a moment, look off towards the wall or ceiling, his expression inward – like he was trying to remember something – and _what, _at _this _time, was so important to remember?; he'd looked down at her splayed body as if trying to work out some math problem – _geometry _from the way he proceeded to reposition her limbs; pleased at both angle and arrangement, satisfied in some stark, less-than-passionate way, almost like sex was science for him, like _everything _was science for him, he'd continued, happy with the results, not noticing how his studied break in the mood, his oddly _un_-sexual behavior, was less than arousing for _her_…

It was almost as though he were following a handy step-by-step instructional guide. (A pamphlet entitled, _"So It's Your First Time? A Virgin's Guide to Sex," _maybe?)

Still and all, despite the less-than-magical mathematical pauses and _both _of their first-timer's awkwardness, she was on her _way_. And then…

And then he…_arrived_, while she was still … on the road.

_Sigh._

_Well, _she thought. _That's OK. **He's **happy – oh, god, **listen **to him… Next time it'll be better. I know it._

(Section break – because ffn won't let you do this any other way…)

But it wasn't. Well, in _some_ ways it was. It just wasn't…quite…better _enough_.

She thought he might have dozed off, his breathing had gotten regular, deeper, but then she felt him moving around behind her. A second later, he'd molded himself to her back, one cold arm circling her middle.

"_Already_," she hissed out, not bothering to mask the weariness in her voice.

She was immediately sorry; he pulled back sharply and his tone said she'd stung him.

"I-I thought you'd want to… I dunno, cuddle, or something…"

_Now there's a word I never thought I'd hear coming from Edward Elric's mouth._

"_Cuddle_," she asked, trying to sound open to it. She certainly didn't want to hurt or discourage him. At this point, though, she wasn't up for much more.

Tentatively, he leaned in again, kissing her shoulder softly.

"Yeah, I read that women like to do that. _After…"_

_He read that?_

"You _read _that?"

So he _was _remembering instructions from some manual.

She was mildly put off by that thought.

What _wasn't _off-putting, though, was the feel of him behind her.

_Oh, **god**, the feel of him…_

She wanted to relax into him, his body was warm and so close, but … but she couldn't let this go.

"Where did you read that, Edward?" She couldn't keep the unrest out of her voice. "Were you … _studying _up on_ … _on this?" She pulled away and sat up to look at him. "Is this," she gestured wide to indicate the bed and what they'd done in it, "just more research for you? More _science_?" And then she got a thought, and it wasn't a good one. "Did you come back here on this trip thinking this was going to happen? Like I was a _"sure thing"_ or something!"

Her decibel level had risen and Edward, for his part, looked frightened.

"W-winry, I…"

Suddenly she remembered yesterday and the way he'd stomped through the house and out onto the back porch, screaming obscenities and threatening to explode all over her nice clean clothes.

He'd _tortured_ her; unaccountably angry because he'd thought she'd put the mark of her ownership on him. Which she _had_…but that wasn't the point. Not if he'd thought he'd owned _her_. _Where did he get off?_

_In Risembool, apparently…_

"You've got a lot of nerve, Edward Elric!"

"Wait! Let me explain! I—"

"Do you or do you not have a," she could barely say the word, "a _**sex **text book_?" He looked like he wanted to deny it, but his face flushed full-out crimson and he could only nod in assent. "Edward, did you come out here on this trip _thinking _this was going to happen?" Despite her anger, the question, and the realization of what it meant, had her feeling suddenly warm herself. Incredibly flattered, but trying to ignore it, she blustered on. _"Did you **plan** this?"_

"Yes. _No!_"

_What!_

"Whattaya mean, _'Yes. No?'_"

Edward, normally a force to be reckoned with, seemed far too flustered for one of his trademark tirades, something she felt sure she'd have been treated to if the circumstances had been different. For instance, if he hadn't been, at that moment, sitting _naked _in her bed …

He wasn't too flustered to be insulted, though. Gathering himself – jaw set, body tensed – he sighed heavily, then answered her.

"_Yes_, I have a sex manual. No, I didn't plan … this…" He mimicked her gesture, indicating the bed.

She watched as his expression seemed to color with something far stronger than embarrassment and insult: _anger_.

"I _came_ out here for a tune-up, Winry. Right on schedule for once, not that you noticed…" He balled his fists up in the sheets. "You're the one that surprised _me_, remember?"

That was true. He'd seemed genuinely shocked when she'd kissed him yesterday.

"So, _what_ – have you just been carrying around a sex manual all along, just hoping you'd get to _use _it someday?" She blanched, all at once realizing she might not have been the intended _target_.

Ed's blush deepened.

"No!… I just got it last night." He quickly clamped a metal hand over his mouth, as though he'd just let something crucial or embarrassing slip out.

Winry was confused.

_O-kay…_

"You didn't go anywhere after dinner last night – we worked on your arm, remember? Where'd you get the book from?"

"Hmm-mmmmm," came the muffled response from behind Ed's hand. He smacked himself in the head with his free hand, clearly pissed that he'd answered her, unintelligible though it had been.

It didn't take a genius to figure it out, though.

"_Alphonse! _Alphonse gave you a book about _sex_?" She struggled to get her brain around that one. "W-why did your little brother give you a book about sex?"

Before he could respond, an even better question floated to the top of her mind.

"_Where _did _Alphonse _get a book about sex!" She shuddered, trying to that imagine sweet, innocent, boy-masquerading-in-the-guise-of-a-behemoth procuring a sex manual. For the second time, the color drained from her face. "Please tell me there isn't …anything … to tell me, Edward…"

Ed's eyes went wide as he got her inference and waving his hands wildly now, he backtracked.

"No, no, no! That's not what I meant! Alphonse _isn't_…" She saw him gulp visibly. "I mean, how _could _he…" His ears started to glow. "He got the book from the _Colonel_—"

"Colonel Mustang gave your _little brother _a sex manual!"

There was a distinct possibility that she was going to be violently ill…

She wasn't sure what was more appalling: the Colonel giving inappropriate _illicit _materials to a minor or the Colonel suggesting said minor put said illicit materials to use. And with _whom? _And _how! _

Pulling the sheet around her, she started to get out of bed.

"Got the number for Central handy? I'm gonna turn that sonovabitch in _right now!_"

With a last tug of the sheet, she stood up and made her way for the door.

She paused, adjusting her sheet, to wonder why Edward was so quiet. Why wasn't he screaming obscenities along with her? He was usually so protective of his younger brother.

_What was **wrong **with him! _

She whirled, spinning on her heel, the sheet twisting around her, only to find Ed curled up in a tight ball, laughing so hard he was gasping for air.

"What the--?"

Feeling the need to toss something hard – the only thing in reach was a hair brush, but it would do – Winry lobbed the bristled missile in Ed's direction, only missing him, appropriately, by a hair's breath, and then only because he was rolling around like an idiot.

"What are you laughing at? This is _serious_!"

Edward bit his lip, trying to clamp the brakes on his mirth – the last bits escaped through his nose – and he looked up at her.

"You're right. It's _very _serious…" One last giggle, then a sigh. "Or it would be if that's what happened. But it isn't."

_Uh-huh…_

Ed's face had suddenly gone white again, all trace of mirth evaporated and, finding his turn-on-a-dime emotional change somewhat frightening, she plopped her sheet-wrapped fanny back down onto the bed.

"What's going on, Ed? Something tells me what really happened is worse than what I was thinking happened, if that's possible…"

After so much uncontrolled laughter, he suddenly seemed reluctant to speak; _stricken_, in fact.

"_Edward_. What is it?" Ed didn't answer and she shook him once, trying to break the spell. _"Ed!"_

"The book wasn't for _Alphonse_," he intoned, quietly, finally speaking. Eyes still unfocused, his brows started to move dangerously together. "It was… it…" Jaw tight, ashen face coloring an angry red, he finally managed to finish the sentence. "It was for _me_…"

"For _you_?"

_She was **right **- Colonel Mustang **was **a pervert! **asterick **(_see note at beginning of story.)

"That sonovabitch," she swore softly. "I _knew _he was too smooth for his own good. I just didn't realize he was a _pedophile_…"

Edward looked up at her then and from his expression she got the idea he was trying to decide whether to laugh or start _ranting_…

The guffaws won out; Edward snorted through his nose, then broke out in a fit of abject laughter.

"You thought the _Colonel_…" gasping for breath, he wiped mirth tears from his cheeks. "You thought the Colonel was …" He rolled back and forth, hugging his knees, unable to say more.

It was her turn to be insulted.

"C'mon, it's not so impossible! Mustang is famous for being a … a little bit of an … an _opportunist_, that way and … and have you _looked _at yourself lately? You're … _pretty, _Edward_. Really _pretty…"

At this, Ed stopped laughing, his expression clouding. "Are you saying I look like a _girl_?"

"No!" She backpedaled. "_God_, no!"

"I'm saying that… I'm saying that _anyone _would want you, Edward." She looked him dead in the eye. _"Anyone."_

Ed quirked an eyebrow, trying to decide how to react.

All at once, every muscle in his contorted face relaxed and his cheeks pinked up nicely.

"Really?"

She bit her lip. _Oh, yeah…_

"Uh-_huh._"

He must have been pleased with that response because he leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips.

_Mmmmm…_

She wasn't too far gone, though, to realize she hadn't gotten an answer yet.

Sitting back on her heels, she peered into his face.

"You _still _haven't told me why the Colonel felt the need to give you a sex manual."

She suddenly felt very protective of him; her right hand started itching for that big wrench she usually wielded. "Do I need to bean him?"

Ed sighed. "One of us probably should…"

His lovely face flushed again, then his brow darkened.

"Actually, beaning is too mild."

His breath quickened and she watched as a flush spread itself across his entire body. Somewhat perversely, he started to laugh – a forced kind of sound – as though he knew damn well she was never gonna buy what he was about to say.

"You wanted to know why he gave Al that book – to give to me? You're gonna laugh your ass off when I tell you."

She eyed him warily. "Good, I could use a laugh…"

He turned his wide eyes towards her, his jaw set, his expression blank. She got the impression he could explode at any minute.

"The Colonel… the _colonel _thinks…" Again the forced laugh. "…he thinks I'm too _tightly wound_… Ha! Can you _believe _that!"

_Tightly wound? Edward? No way! What a ridiculous idea…!_

Winry had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

_A ridiculous idea in some bizzaro-mirror world, maybe…_

She knew he needed to hear her say something supportive and comforting like, "_No way! What a ridiculous idea!_" but knowing she could never pull that off, she just shook her head and hoped she was convincing.

"He told Al that he thought I needed an _outlet_… And that," his voice was strained, "and that if I had been—" He broke off here and his blush edged into the danger zone. "—if I had been … _you _know… jer— um, _h-helping _myself…in any way, I probably wouldn't be so tense and …and go _off _on people so much the way … the way he says I do…"

Now that _was _ridiculous, considering his life on the road with his brother.

"How the hell can you … _help _yourself? You're never _alone_?"

He grinned his relief, for a moment forgetting to be shocked by her statement.

"I _know_! That's what _I _said!" Realizing what they'd _both _just said, and what _he'd _just inferred, Edward suddenly looked sick.

Nonplused, Winry went on. "'Sides, he doesn't know you very well if he thinks _that'll _help…"

"_Hey!_ I'm sitting right here!_" _

She bit her lip to keep from laughing at him, sensing that it would be counterproductive at this point.

"I'm just saying, you've always been … like this, even _before _your hormones were making you miserable…"

He gave her a sideways glance. "I'm not gonna take that as an insult because … because I know you're trying to help…"

Smiling, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Good."

"It's a good thing I had that book, though, you know? Cause… cause I like to research new stuff before I … um, try it and without the book, I wouldn't have known what to do…"

Winry bit her lip. Now was her chance to tell him, but _how _to?

Come off too casual and he might not get it. Be blunt and risk him imploding or having a seizure or something. _It'd been a rough five minutes for Edward…_

"Can I see it?" She held out her hand. "You know I'm all about the research myself."

Edward blushed. "…um, sure. Lemme get it."

He tried to reach his pants, but they'd been flung too far in the frenzy and he had to get out of bed to get them.

Which bothered Winry not at all…

Her breath caught in her throat; the way the corded muscles of his strong back narrowed down towards his slim waist, the muscles of his right thigh pulling tight as he bent to pick up the book, performing a little move – half athletic, half _balletic _– with an unconscious bounce at the end as he righted himself.

Her heart skipped a beat and her face flush hotly.

_Damn the book. Just **look **at him…_

He was so, so _beautiful_; how could this not work?

Maybe one more try… In the name of research…

Oblivious to the affect he was having on her, Ed spun on his heel, holding the book out to her. She grabbed his other hand instead, pulling him back into bed.

"Hold that thought," she whispered.

Hands at the small of his back, she pulled him close, lips at his neck.

"_Okay_…" he husked, settling himself over her with a long sigh.

"I think we need to do a little more research of our own at the moment."

Ed's answering giggle got lost in the kiss.

_Third times' the charm…_

_tbc…_


	5. Learning Curve Pt 2

_**A/N – I have marked all section breaks thusly – "(Section break)." Normally, I would have used a strand of symbols and extra lines to space out and set off the next section, but ffn's software removes all of these. Since the section break is essential to allow for changes in POV, time or location, I felt it important to insure new sections be appropriately set off. My apologies if this is any way awkward. Please bear with…**_

**Title:** Learning Curve – Part 2  
**Part:** 3/7 (Branded – series)  
**Author:** ibshafer  
**Rating:** R  
**Character/Pairing:** EdXWin… or is it WinXEd?…  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.  
**Summary:** In which Ed some tough lessons about love, _not _from the Bastard's Sex Manual, and Winry takes matters into her own hands... **Warnings:** sexual situations, but nothing too explicit  
**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; AU, I guess…  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Feedback:** _Yes_, please…

Branded: Learning Curve – part 2

_**ibshafer**_

Edward was breathing pretty heavily (and it didn't help that the geeks in the Speech Center had started to cheer again), so it was a little while before he realized there was a _new _sound coming from the other side of the bed.

It was a sound the chilled him to the core.

_Winry was growling. _

Propping himself up on an elbow, Ed peered over her shoulder to find her assiduously chewing the nails of her left hand.

The look on her face was pure Winry – if Winry had an evil, angry twin, that is. (Something he had often suspected…)

His stomach did an aerobatic little flip in his mid-section (more cheering from the geeks!) …and then his post-coital Bliss turned tail and ran like the girlie-girl it was.

Suddenly sober, Ed bit his lip, took a deep breath and made an attempt at the high road.

"That's not a good face," he said, his voice quiet. "You didn't… didn't…" He scanned his memory for the right word.

_Shit! _

What was that word? It was such a simple, innocent-sounding word…

_Finish_?

_That _sounded right. Well,_ wrong_, but … _correct_, anyway.

"You …um, you didn't …_f-finish_, did you?"

Winry's sigh sent the dust on the tool shelf flying.

_**(Hello! I am a section break. Please ignore just me and go onto the next section of the story...)**_

_Maybe it's me? Not like I've done this before either…_

Eyes fixed to the ceiling, unable to look at him, she decided it was time to come clean.

Hard to say the words right off, though. Instead, she just shook her head.

Edward's voice was perplexed and very small. "It _seemed _like you finished…"

"The word is 'come,' Edward and no, I didn't."

She could _hear _his brows furrowing and knew he'd be dealing with a lot right now. In spite of her frustration, she felt a little guilty for putting him through it. For all his bluster, Edward carried an open packet of guilt with him everywhere; he might come off as arrogant most of the time, but he never forgot his failures.

"Well, it—it _sounded _like you were … um, enjoying it…" Ed's voice trailed off and there was silence in the room for a moment.

He might never forget his failures, but he was sometimes a little slow to recognize them. This had to be rough for him.

He was silent for a while, she guessed while he dealt with his feelings of guilt and inadequacy, a heavy-handed duo that Edward was well acquainted with.

His eyes were downcast, pupils restless beneath fringed lids, his cheeks colored a shamed rose. He looked to be searching for answers, struggling with something.

_Damn, damn, damn…!_

She hadn't wanted to destroy his _confidence! _

_It's nothing we can't fix, Ed…_

She took his hand and he met her eyes, something that looked like personal responsibility dawning on his brilliant features.

She thought he was finally starting to understand…

She thought _wrong_.

In a flash, Edward was grinning, all teeth; the image chilled her.

"This is because you made me wear that little hat!" He was up on his elbow again, glaring at her.

_What!_

_Little hat?_

_What the hell's he talking about…? There was no hat wearing – we never left the bedroom!_

_Wait… _

…_little hat…_

_It **did **sort of look like…_

…_like a 'little hat…'_

She fought the sudden compulsion to laugh her ass off.

Really, he could be so stupid sometimes!

"Don't be ridiculous!" she shouted back at him, biting her tongue. The giggle urge hadn't quite left yet.

He flopped onto his back, arms folded across his chest, all trace of the shame she'd imagined he'd been feeling evaporated like so much mineral spirits...

There was an evil glint in his amber eyes.

"I should get to test my theory," he pouted. "Let's try it once without the little hat."

_Does he mean…?_

_Of **course **he does! There's no way **that's **gonna happen… Is he **insane?**_

"Do you have any idea what you're suggesting? There will be no testing of theories with my body, Edward Elric!"

She did her best to glare him down, but he was on a roll, pleased with himself now that he'd found a way to sidestep failure.

"I thought you were all about the research, Winry."

_For the love of…_

"I was _lying_, you idiot! I was just trying to get a look at that damn book!"

"Why? After all the research you've already done – I thought you _knew _it all!"

She decided to save reacting to that comment for later when she could give it her full attention. Right now she was focused on the book, feeling quite sure that it was the root of all evils.

_I can almost see it…_

_Simplistic little "insert-tab-A-into-slot-B" diagrams, lifeless step-by-step instructions, bland descriptions of what should be a passionate and loving act between two people who truly care for one another… _

"There's more to sex than following directions, Edward!"

Ed seemed confused by this statement, like she'd just spoken in a language unfamiliar to him.

"I know it worked for you, but you're a guy. A _seventeen year old _guy."

Now, _that _he understood.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" Clearly insulted, he folded his arms across his chest in huff.

"It means I could probably blow you a kiss, from the other side of the _room_, and that'd be enough!"

He took the comment in stride, though it looked like he was fighting the urge not to explode in royal Edward fashion really_, really _hard.

Instead, he started waving the book at her.

"Look, Winry! People have been using … sex manuals for years and years and, if I'm not mistaken, having lots and _lots _of sex, which, again, if I'm not mistaken, I _think _means that they _liked _it, and I _think _means it worked for them. So…how could there be anything wrong with the book? Maybe the book isn't the problem, _did ya think of that_? Afterall, as you say, it worked for _me_! Maybe the book's not to blame for you not…" He grimaced here, clearly finding the word, now that he knew it, distasteful. "…_coming_!"

She sat back on her heels, trying to decide the best way to answer that question. After a quick ten-second's contemplation, she opted for actions instead of words and quickly bridging the distance between them on the bed, pressed herself against his furiously quaking form.

"Does your sex manual say anything about _this_," she breathed, lips against his neck. Suckling a sweet spot she'd discovered behind his left ear, she dragged her teeth against the nape of his neck, then laved a path down the column of his throat with her tongue, following closely after with hot breath and finishing, in a flourish, with a full-out lips-and-tongue assault on his extravagant, delicious mouth.

He gasped when she pulled away, which in itself would have been satisfying enough, but the response the …_rest _of his body gave put her way over her goal.

"Hmmmm…?" she asked innocently, having put a couple feet between them again.

Edward looked stricken, face red, prodigious chest heaving beautifully. He seemed to be having trouble forming words.

"_I… I…"_

Nearly panting, he watched her in wonder, and the dearest state of confusion, and it took all her will not to shiver with her _own _sense of awe … and lunge for him once again.

Instead, reaching for his flesh hand where it hung limply at his side, she batted doe-eyes at him, making sure he was looking her full in the face.

"Does it say anything about _this_, Edward?"

Gently, reverently, she drew his open hand to her lips, kissing the palm sweetly, almost chastely, then, eyes still locked to his, she placed it over her left breast.

"Do you feel that, Ed," she asked.

Ed blushed and his face crinkled into a silent giggle.

She rolled her eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Not _that_, idiot."

_**(Section break...)**_

Winry pressed his hand more firmly against her.

"_Deeper, _Edward,_" _she breathed. "What do you _feel_?" Her voice was all cadence and heat, the sound seductive, hinting at something more.

_Something more…_

Too many sensations were fighting for airtime in his head and Ed just sat there on his knees, blinking in confusion.

_What do I feel…?_

Ed's brain, and its support staff, had long since liquefied and drained away into his lower extremities, but a few of the geeks had hung on and one of them, not a particularly bright one, was trying to get him to flex the fingers of his left hand.

_No, damnit! Don't be a freak! That's not what she's asking you to do…_

Counting to ten a few times and saying a silent prayer for patience, Edward closed his eyes against the image threatening to undo him and fought for some semblance of understanding.

The skin beneath his hand was hot and so soft he wanted to taste it. (He gamely resisted the urge, but filed away the directive for some later juncture.)

_No, that's not what she's asking you for, either._

Edward swallowed hard as part of that soft skin started to react to the pressure of his hand, pressing itself insistently against him, willing him to react, but with a sigh of resignation (and frustration) he bit the inside of his cheek until the impulse faded a little, feeling quite certain, no, feeling quite _positive_, that this, also, was not what she was asking.

Taking a deep breath, and booting the other geek to oblivion for flashing a camera-eye's image of what the two of them, in that position, must look like (she kneeling flushed before him, creamy skin bared to him, he with his hand holding her _there_…) he cleared his mind and focused on the flesh beneath his hand and then, deeper, the flesh beneath that…

_There! _

_Wow…_

In her chest, Winry's heart was beating steadily, rhythmically and very, very rapidly.

He opened his eyes with a gasp of wonder.

"Your _heart_…" he whispered. "It's beating so _fast_…"

_**(Section break...)**_

With a slow smile, she threaded her fingers through those that held her there.

"_That_," she said, softly. "That's what you do to me, Edward…"

She drew his hand to her lips again, kissing the fingers, his palm.

"Is there anything in yourbook about _that?_"

Eyes closed, he touched his forehead to hers and she felt him let out a long breath.

His answer was silent, a head shake, followed immediately thereafter by the sweetest kiss she could imagine as he slid his fingers into her hair and pulled her hard against him.

She could feel him – _everywhere _– and the sensation was maddening. It also brought with it a mild form of _amnesia; _it was almost enough to make her forget their failings and just pull him down on top of her.

But she was not going to let that happen again.

One more time and that might be it - they might never recover.

At the moment, though, she was having problems thinking straight; he was trailing his fingertips up and down her back and the dual sensation, the hot and the cool of it, was so, _so _right, she was thinking he'd had an epiphany when he'd gone into that trance…

"_W-wait_, Edward."

It was that damn book. No matter how good _this _felt, a bad lesson learned well was a hard one to break.

With an effort, she pulled herself from his arms, his swollen lips and earnest confusion nearly melting her resolve, and she paused to catch her breath for a moment before holding out her hand.

"The book, Ed. Let me see the book."

He stared at her hand in confusion for a second. Shaking his head as if to clear his vision, he groped blindly for it in the sheets, then held it up to her.

_**(Section break...)**_

Her first impression was that it was far too thin to be of use to anyone. More of a pamphlet then a full-fledged book, really.

She realized that she'd actually seen this manual somewhere in her travels, most likely at the public library. After a quick glance at it, unimpressed, she had slipped it back onto the shelf and grabbed the next reference.

Funny that Mustang would have chosen this particular tome to pass on to Edward.

_Was he trying to ruin his life? _

She was beginning to understand why Edward called the man the _'Bastard Colonel.' _He certainly had a sick sense of humor…

Winry hefted the thin, fabric covered volume in her hand, letting it fall open naturally, looking up, when she heard Edward gasp, to find him blushing and stricken.

The pages had righted themselves on a series of diagrams in the book's second chapter, as she had suspected, a set of simplistic _"operating" _instructions depicting (Winry started to giggle here – she just couldn't help herself) the particular …_interlocking _aspects of the male-female anatomy.

It was Diagram 4, though, that was Winry's _undoing _- an illustration showing a couple in a …there was no better word for it – _merged _state _("insert tab A into slot B!")_. That would have been bad enough, but the artist, if one could use that term to apply to someone who drew pictures of people having intercourse for a sex manual, had chosen to plaster silly grins on their bland, lifeless faces. From their expressions, it looked more like 2D Man and Woman had just heard a really, really lame joke and, out of politeness to the ersatz joke-teller, were pretending to be amused, possibly so the offending comedian would go away and not tell them any more jokes…

_They don't even look like they're **enjoying** themselves!_

It started as a tiny giggle in the back of her throat, one she tried to clear away like a tickle, but it quickly took on a life of its own, filling her lungs, making her shake with mirth and, all too soon, it spilled out into the room to echo off the walls.

Edward, for his part, looked incredibly offended by her reaction.

"_What!" _he barked, grabbing the book out of her hand and smoothing off the pages where her mirth-tears had dropped. "You think this is _funny_!"

She bit her tongue and held her breath for a moment, trying to regain her composure, only partially succeeding.

"You _don't?" _

Snatching the book back from his hands, she flipped through the pages, broke out in a fit of giggles at Chapter 3 ("After coitus, women like to 'cuddle.' see Diagrams 1-3."), then found her way back to Chapter 2.

"Don't you think," she said, waving the book in his face, "that they left out some _steps _here?"

_**(Section break...)**_

He wanted to say _"no!"_ He _really _did.

There was nothing Edward hated _more_, well, _almost _nothing, anyway, than being _wrong_.

But after she'd done that thing with her tongue on the back of his neck, a thing the Bastard's Sex Manual hadn't even hinted at, he'd known the book was clearly small potatoes when it came to the sex game.

Not yet ready to admit to anything, least of all that he'd been operating with faulty instructions, he just grabbed the volume back from her and glared in her general direction.

Arms folded across her chest _(damnit! I can't **see **now!) _she huffed once (an act he would have loved to have seen without the folded arms…) and shook her head.

"Why are you so committed to that thing, Edward? It's just a _book_." Suddenly there was an evil glint in her wide blue eyes. "Did it ever occur to you that Mustang's real intent was to mess with your _head_? Or maybe… _maybe_ he thought you knew more than …" she broke off here, suddenly seeming embarrassed for him. "…that you knew _more _than you do…"

The room started to go dim.

"_Look!" _he said, trying to keep from passing out. "I've had a lot to do the past few years, _okay!_ Trying to get Al's body back, running from the Homunuli and Scar, trying to find the friggin' Stone! When have I had time to … to …" He couldn't finish the sentence. "My _technique _has been the least of my worries!"

"I know that," she said gently. "I _know _that." She touched one soft hand to his arm, then took the book back with the other. "So you thought this would help. It helped a _little_…"

Her smile made his head swim.

_Has she always been this beautiful?_

"We can fix this, Edward. Honest we can." She kissed his hand and he felt his face flush hotly. "First thing, though, is we've gotta start over."

He had just enough time to echo "start over?" out loud and then she was tossing the Bastard's Sex Manual out the window.

"Hey!"

He heard it land with a smack on the porch below, followed closely thereafter by Den's excited barking, then Den's excited growling, and then, sickeningly, the kinds of sounds that usually accompanied Den's excited bone-gnawing…

"_What the fuck, Winry?" _He made a leap for the window, but she caught his hand roughly, pulling him back onto the bed. _"Whattaya think you're doing!"_

"Chill _out_, will ya!" She seemed to be loosing patience, always a scary prospect where Winry was concerned. That wrench was only three feet away.

"Look – we've got a couple choices here, one of which you're going to _hate_ and one that you'll probably hate even _more_…"

He blew a raspberry. "You call those _choices?_"

She gave him a withering look _(Yikes! **Really **withering!) _and continued.

"I can just _tell _you what you need to do – _for me – _Edward_…_"

The geek last booted from the Speech Center had crawled its way back upstairs and was inching towards the Emergency Electrical Disconnect button on hands and knees…

_I-I'm gonna pass out…_

He gulped for air.

"Choice _B?_" he managed to choke out.

Suddenly upending herself, an act that displeased Edward not at all (and gave that lone geek the will to live), she commenced to digging for something under the mattress.

A moment later and she'd retrieved what appeared to be a thick volume from its hiding place.

"Choice B – _my _reference book…"

Grinning ignobly, she held the tome out to him.

He regarded the volume sheepishly for a moment, almost afraid it might leap up and bite him, then, with his _mechanical _hand, not the flesh one, he reached out to take it from her.

The cover was glossy, fully in color, and well worn from use, dog-eared and soft. He blushed, realizing how it had probably gotten that way…

But its condition wasn't the most striking thing about the cover.

No, that distinction went to the illustration, an illustration Edward would be hard put to deny made the diagrams in the Bastard's Sex Manual look like children's nursery school drawings…

On the cover were a half-dressed man and woman, caught in the act of … or rather, just _**about **to…_

Edward swallowed hard, fought for air and entertained three notions simultaneously.

First:

_W-what has she been **reading!**_

Next:

_Is **that** really what people look like when they're about to… about to…?_

And then:

_Mmmmmmmm… _accompanied by the distinct impression that the members of Team Elric, stationed at either ends of … _Base _Elric, were… um, waging a war that would ultimately end in either his extreme …_embarrassment_ _or _his extreme death.

And the Emergency Disconnect button was getting ready to push _itself…_

To calm himself, and maybe bring his higher brain functions out of the danger zone and back to a level that could sustain life, he brought his attention back the people on the book's cover.

_Yowza! This guy's an **ape**! Is **that **the kind of guy she likes?_

Bare-chested and virile beyond all humanity, a blond-haired behemoth with flowing locks and half-lidded eyes was kneeling over a maiden (yes, the clothes qualified her as "maiden," even if she _was _fairly busting out of that bodice) who's own intentions were pretty damn plain…

Ed read the title and felt some of the blood rush back into his face.

Heat – _what kind of a title was that? – _by Eiri Yuki.

From out of nowhere, a thought popped into Edward's poor, singed brain…

_Yuki? I wonder if he's related to that idiot from Youswell…_

The tangential thought allowed Ed's breathing (and face color) to normalize somewhat, which Edward decided was particularly fortuitous; the last thing he needed was for Winry to see the affect the book was having on him. Especially not when there was an argument to be won here.

Sanity, who'd been hiding itself in the Pleasure Center of Edward's brain for the last few hours, ventured a thought here.

_What kind of argument is it when you **both **win…?_

Edward batted him away without a second thought.

_Ah, what do **you **know?_

Hoping against hope that his body hadn't betrayed him, _(damn you, body!) _Edward blew out what he thought was a nonchalant breath, bit the inside of his cheek for focus, and turned to look at her.

"_And?" _he asked.

He was hoping he'd pulled off Indifference, feeling anything _but _at the moment. His brain, _(damn you, brain!) _had continued the book's cover scene in his head – the ape and the maiden were currently exploring the wonders of _Diagram 4_…

Winry was watching the book as though it was alive, like the ape and the maiden were exploring Diagram 4 for her, too… It took her a moment to shake herself out of her reverie.

Unfortunately, it looked like she shook too hard.

"_And!" _She grit out through tightly clenched teeth.

Storm clouds started to gather on the Winry horizon; Ed chose the smart tack and started to back-pedal. _Fast._

"Well, you know… I'm just wondering how two half-naked people and," he flipped to the last page of the book, "and 653 pages add up to … _you know_…"

_Oops! Not a smart enough tack!_

"Oh, for pity's _sake_, Edward! Grow the Hell up!" Winry was back on her feet, rummaging through her dresser drawers.

Despite her menacing tone, Ed was grateful for this action for two important reasons: 1) she was still starkers and 2) she was out of hand's (and wrench's) reach.

She was starting to dress now _(No! Why are you putting clothes **on**!), _regarding him with absolute frustration as she did so.

"The word is _'orgasm,' _Edward. Say it with me."

At that moment, Edward felt his eyes trying to pop themselves out of his head.

Winry sighed angrily. "And stop bugging out your eyes. You're gonna hurt yourself." She swore under her breath. "It's just a _word_, Edward. Now, _say _it!"

But words were refusing to form in Edward's brain just then. In fact, his brain was considering mutiny. After all, he'd been ignoring it for several hours now, so what use was it anyway?

Slipping a tank top over her head, Winry spun to face him. She no doubt saw the last remnants of his brain leaking out of his ears, because all at once her expression softened and she sat down next to him on the bed.

"I'm sorry, Ed," she said quietly.

Leaning in, she covered his hand with her own, squeezing, then softly kissed his forehead.

All members of the Team instantly returned to their posts.

Winry smiled at him gently, shaking her head, and stared deep into his slightly unfocused eyes.

"Meet me in the kitchen in five minutes, Ed."

_Huh?_

"W-what," he asked, unable to see anything but her lips.

"Meet me in the kitchen in five minutes." She repeated and then spared a glance downward. "And as much as I love the view, you should probably put some clothes on, too."

Ed blushed so hard his ears throbbed. Suddenly shy, he pulled the sheet into his lap.

"_Why _should I meet you in the kitchen," he asked, his voice slightly hoarse and more than a little confused.

"You'll see."

_I'll see…_

The lips were smiling again. It was nice.

And then he couldn't see them any more because they were pressed gently against his own.

She was gone with a giggle, but not before she'd retrieved his shorts from the floor and flung them at his face.

_tbc…_


	6. Learning Curve Pt 3

**Title:** Learning Curve Pt 4  
**Part:** 3/7 (Branded – series)  
**Author:** ibshafer  
**Rating:** R  
**Character/Pairing:** EdXWin… or is it WinXEd?…  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.  
**Summary:** In which Edward and Winry get some alone time…and in which the course of true love runs anything but smoothly…

**Warnings:** sexual situations, but nothing too explicit  
**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; AU, I guess…  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Feedback:** _Yes_, please…

**A/N: **To the **Anime club at the Philadelphia Academy Charter High School (and ZLR, specifically) **– thank you for your _amazing _note! I tried writing back, but AOL claimed you were an "unknown user." (Odd, considering it had no problem _delivering _mail from that same "unknown" user…) Please try me again, maybe with a different email addy?

section break

He came downstairs to find her packing a picnic hamper with food, humming softly to herself. When he saw her in the kitchen, all happiness and light, he slowed his decent down the stairs, the pang of a now all-too-familiar feeling poking him annoyingly in the center of his chest.

I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist! I'm supposed to be this **prodigy**… How can I be bad at this?

He bit the inside of his cheek so hard, he drew blood.

'Hero of the People,' my ass…

Folding a cloth around what looked to be a good-sized chuck of brownie, Winry was intent on her task and hadn't noticed he was there yet.

Considering how the last hour had gone, her frustration – with him, with the whole morning, really, Edward would have thought she'd be impatiently tapping a toe or at the least, swearing his name under her breath, but she wasn't doing that. She wasn't upset at all.

In fact, she seemed downright happy.

How can she be so calm? I thought she was … **unsatisfied**?

Ow!

There went that feeling again!

The geek in charge sent the assistant geek off to search for the source, leaving Edward paused awkwardly on the stairs. Not knowing how long it was going to take and not wanting to be discovered standing awkwardly on the stairs just staring at her, he quietly started down again, hoping he'd be able to make a nonchalant entrance, the kind of entrance the ape on the book cover no doubt made; the kind Mustang probably perfected when he was still in diapers.

Unfortunately for Edward at that moment, he was neither a) an ape; b) Roy Mustang or c) anywhere near as cool as he wanted to be…

Unfortunately for Edward, the house was clearly conspiring against him…

When he hit the bottom step, a warped board there gave him away with a thundering, grating creak and Winry looked up at him in surprise.

"Hey," she said, smiling.

Ed instantly felt his cheeks coloring and he damned his blood for the show-off that it was, always rushing to his face so it could be seen.

"H-hey," he mumbled, awkwardly.

The time upstairs alone, dragging his clothes on, had given Ed the breathing room he needed to get his brain in order. (All posts manned, sir!) He was still confused, still embarrassed – at his failure to make her happy – but she seemed calm, so why shouldn't he?

"We're going on a picnic? Shouldn't we be…" He glanced back upstairs somewhat sheepishly.

He was rewarded with a lovely blush that started in her cheeks and soon spread downward to her collarbone. (And, Ed now knew, well beyond…)

"Picnic?" Winry shook her head. "Not we. You."

Before he could ask her why, she'd handed him the hamper, then, taking him by the hand, she steered him towards the door.

With her head, she gestured to the big oak tree in the yard. "That looks like a good spot." She put her book into his free hand.

"Don't come back until you get it."

It hadn't been a particularly brilliant couple of hours for Edward so it came as no surprise to him that he was confused by this.

"Until I get what?"

She patted him on the bum and pushed him towards the steps.

"When you get it… you'll get it." With a giggle, she stepped back into the house.

"Hey!" he called after her.

"Yes, Edward?"

"What's with the hamper?"

She grinned at him widely.

"Lunch, silly."

section break

If there was anything in this world that Edward Elric relished, it was study. Books were worlds to him, knowledge a mystery waiting to be unraveled.

But over the years, Edward had also come to another understanding, this one relating to the nature of study, knowledge and unraveling mysteries: that sense of wonder and pleasure only applied to topics, and books, he himself chose to study, and not to any imposed on him by someone else, no matter how interesting the topic may have been. (Unless, of course, the subject was alchemy, and then all bets were off…)

In school, before he and Al had stopped going, (just after Izumi had taken them on as apprentices), his grades had been fairly good, but nothing to alert the media about. He did well not because he studied hard, but because he just naturally absorbed information with ease. If a subject interested him, he owned it. If it did not, he wouldn't even rent it…

It didn't help that he also had a rebellious streak a mile wide. When someone, no matter who, was pushing something on him, if he wasn't pushing back, he wasn't Edward Elric.

And so, muttering under his breath, much more interested in the contents of the food hamper, than the book itself, Edward made his way out to the oak tree to read Winry's Sex Manual, as it would heretofore always been known.

section break

Nibbling at a chicken sandwich, Winry stood at the kitchen window and watched Ed settle himself under the old oak tree. (Well, 'settle himself' was too tame a way to describe it; 'threw himself on the ground' would be more accurate…)

She tried to reassure herself that she'd done the right thing. Not for the first time, she wondered if she'd even been wrong to kiss him yesterday, and cross that line, at all. Just because you want a thing, just because you can have that thing, that thing being the heart, and the delicious body, of one Edward Elric, doesn't mean that it was the right thing...

Winry worried that she'd ruined the lifelong friendship they'd had.

Then again, they'd been through so much together; as friends, as the only family each of them had, surely they could survive this?

What was a little semi-successful, not-altogether-terrible sex between friends?

Right?

section break

Back to the tree, Ed stared at Winry's book, now propped up against the picnic basket, and he could swear the damn thing was staring back at him…

The maiden was looking at him with lust-glazed eyes as the ape pawed his big, meaty hands through that flimsy-looking bodice of hers.

'Thirty minutes from now I'll be screaming this big guy's name and … **finishing** all over the place… Bet you wish **you **were that good…'

Shut up, you're just a freaking book. What do **you **know?

It was the ape's eyes that did the most damage to Ed's psyche, though. The blond behemoth just oozed confidence, sexual confidence, something Ed had never questioned, or shit!, even thought about before now.

'Looks like size really does matter, pipsqueak! Bwahahaha….'

In his head, the ape threw his head back and laughed a big belly laugh at Ed's expense.

Ed toed the book, knocking it flat onto its back cover.

There! Let 'em stare at the tree for a little while…

Not even abject humiliation at the 'hands' of a romance novel, though, was enough to distract Ed from a very familiar, very beloved, and, very suddenly, a much more pressing need.

Catching a whiff of a most appealing olfactory combination emanating from the hamper – a heady combination of fresh baked bread and deep chocolate brownies – Edward's stomach, usually the most assertive member of the Team, suddenly found its voice, sort of a low, yawning, barbarian growwwl, and let it be known, to all other staff members, members who had clearly, clearly been indulging some pretty less-than-savory whims of late, that It Was His Turn Now.

'Wow,' Edward thought to himself. 'I've worked up quite an appetite today, more so than usual. What have I been…' The words trailed off in his head and he suddenly felt all the blood in his body rush to his face. 'Oh, yeah…'

A flash of Winry's smooth neck, and the sweet taste of the skin just at the hollow of her throat, wrought havoc with both Edward's appetite and his circulatory system.

His senses assailed by the rich scent of chocolate, his memories utterly overrun by soft moans and soft kisses, Edward shivered and burned, simultaneously.

Food.

Eyeing the hamper, in his mind, already feeling that soft country bread layered with lettuce and what was no doubt chicken, filling his mouth, Edward let his stomach do a hopeful, happy dance in his abdomen.

Sex.

Tapping the book at his feet with a bare metal toe, while at the same time, in his mind, seeing both the soon-to-be fornicating couple on the book's cover and the soft curves cascading

down Winry's smooth back – from shoulder to inwardly arched spine, past… (Edward's mind went blank as one of the Team, it didn't matter who, accidentally leaned on the oxygen feed line and the world started to spin)… to tender calves that were so easily tickled by his fingertips….

Food.

Sex.

The old oak at his back, a cotton blanket keeping the damp from his shorts, Edward waited impatiently while a battle for control waged in his head.

His libido and his recent memory had put together what they thought was a pretty convincing slide show, but his stomach was threatening to scream so loudly, the distraction would render all other pursuits a failure…

Food…

Sex…

On the one hand, a fat volume wherein two perfect physical specimens contemplated, talked about, then had copious amounts of sex.

On the other, a cooler filled with sandwiches and what was beginning to smell like a whole pan of brownies…

Food?

Sex?

Hmmm…

Food was food was food…

No arguing with that.

And reading about people having sex, no matter how many words were used, was not the same as actually having sex yourself, so…

Food it was!

With a gleeful little gurgle, Edward (and his triumphant stomach) lunged for the cooler.

section break

tbc…


	7. Learning Curve Pt 4

**Title:** Learning Curve – Part 4  
**Part:** 3/7 (Branded – series)  
**Author:** ibshafer  
**Rating:** R  
**Character/Pairing:** EdXWin… or is it WinXEd?…  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.  
**Summary:** In which Edward and Winry get some alone time…and in which the course of true love runs anything but smoothly…

_**Warnings:** sexual situations, but nothing too explicit  
**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; AU  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Feedback:** _Yes_, please…_

_(From the previous chapter…)_

_On the one hand, a fat volume wherein two perfect physical specimens contemplated, talked about, then had copious amounts of sex._

_On the other, a cooler filled with sandwiches and what was beginning to smell like a whole pan of brownies…_

_Food?_

_Sex?_

_Hmmm…_

_Food was food was food… _

_No arguing with that. _

_And reading about people having sex, no matter how many words were used, was not the same as actually having sex yourself, so…_

_Food it was!_

_With a gleeful little gurgle, Edward (and his triumphant stomach) lunged for the cooler._

Three chicken sandwiches later – there was a fourth, but he was saving it as a reward for cracking the book's spine – Ed was just polishing off the 1 lb brownie Winry had packed, when his mouth ran up against a brick wall. A _white _brick wall.

A white brick wall that came in the form of a small glass bottle filled with a viscous white liquid the consistency of bile and the color of … the color of … well, he didn't want to get into what it was the color of…

_"Gah!" _he screeched out loud.

How could she _do _this to him – and at a time like this? He had a mouth full of brownie, his soft palate and tongue were getting ready to mutiny, and the last thing he needed was something a cow made out of chewed up grass and, quite possibly, some of its own poo. Out there in the fields, happily, _brainlessly _munching away, did a cow really look where it was chewing? For that matter, could something that secreted a substance that tasted as foul as milk actually tell the _difference _between grass and its own poo?

Yaaach!

Why was it so hard for people to understand that He. Did. Not. Want. To. Drink. Milk. Period?! (Question mark? Exclamation point!)

Moral debates about the viability of milk as a substance one takes into one's own body _aside_, the more pressing issue was procuring an acceptable substitute.

Immediately.

Before he choked to death.

(The geeks, the ones, that is, that hadn't already passed out, were stumbling around the command center, gasping dramatically, holding shaking hands to their throats and generally making a real spectacle of themselves, not unlike their commander…)

Ignoring the most obvious option _("Edward stormed across the lawn and up the steps, throwing open the weathered door, making certain he did so with enough force to bounce the thing off the side of the house, but not so much that it rebounded and smacked him in the face before he could stomp on through. Once inside, he stomped over to the ice box where he flung the door open, yanked out the pitcher of fresh lemonade that was sitting there, and drained its contents in one swallow…")_, Edward instead whistled sharply through his fingers, whereby an excited Den bounded across the lawn, no doubt hoping for something _else _fun to chew on, only to be met by a determined looking Edward, who slipped a hastily scribbled note under his collar, pointed him towards the front porch and with grit teeth and hoarse voice, commanded him to _"Find Winry!!!"_ after which the dog set off to do just _that_.

_Good dog._

Feeling quite sure liquid rescue was now certain, but still fuming that he'd been put in this parched position to begin with, Edward leapt to his feet, arms folded across his heaving chest, mouth open to the cool air in hopes of a passing downpour to bring him relief, and with eyes glued to the porch, _he waited. _

_(SECTION BREAK)_

_Oh, goodness. What's **that **look for?_

Ed was on his feet now, a familiar look of royally-pissed-off molding that beautiful face, a face she'd had recent opportunity to see flushed and grimacing for _another _reason...

She'd sent him out to eat lunch and read. What could possibly have inspired such an expression? And, sheesh, look at the way he was standing and holding his mouth open, like he was in pain and desperate for relief; _like he was… _

_Oh…_

Winry couldn't help but smirk.

_Oopsie…_

Well, it was force of habit; if not a packing-Edward-lunch habit, then a packing-someone-a-brownie habit.

How could he even _want_ to eat a brownie without the cool, creaminess of milk to wash it down. Milk made the brownie worth eating. Without milk, the brownie just turned one's mouth into a gummy, disgusting, _frustrating_…

Now she'd found a giggle to accompany her smirk.

She hadn't done it on purpose, but there did seem to be an oddly balanced equivalency here, kind of a frustration-for-frustration karma sort of thing.

_Oh, look at him **fume**… _

Just then, she became aware of an excited, black streak, making its way across the lawn towards the house and she could swear she saw Edward lift his chin towards her, as if punctuating some sentence that began at the tree and ended at the door.

Just then, Den bounded up onto the porch, barking his arrival. She obliged and let him in; curious at what his excitement had to do with the state of Edward's mouth…

As usual, Den was overjoyed to see her and it was only a moment before all that leaping and barking caused something to drop from the his collar.

Retrieving it from the floor, she saw that it was a piece of paper.

Huffing once and rolling her eyes, risking a quick glance towards the tree where Edward now appeared triumphant, and, at the same time, somehow even _more _desperate, she unfolded and read the note – which took all of one second.

In Edward's unmistakable chicken scratch was a single, somewhat innocuous word, one that usually fell more on the _innocent _side of the vocabulary war and one that was certainly not accustomed to being uttered, or chicken scratched, in the heat of what was looking to be, if not a battle, then at least a spirited skirmish…

This normally tepid three-syllable word was followed by some rather emphatic, almost accusatory punctuation. (Hence the transformation of said word from a mild-mannered collection of letters, into something intended to be more the verbal equivalent of a slap in the face…)

_**"LEMONADE!!!" **_the note said, somehow managing to sound commanding, despite the chicken scratch – and a fair amount of Den's stray dog hairs.

What Edward had failed to realize was that this was not Winry's _first day_ on the Edward Job.

He'd been issuing her orders for as long as she could remember – even as a soft-bellied five-year old, Edward could be a stern little demon when provoked – but Winry had always been a girl possessed of her own spine: she rarely complied and she _never stepped to _and the only thing keeping Edward from realizing this was his own inability, or was it his reluctance?, to _accept _that she had no intention of complying or stepping to.

The more vehemently he insisted, the more emphatically she resisted. All this insisting and resisting was usually accompanied by the requisite amount of arm-waving and name-calling, none of which either paid heed to, but circle they did all the same.

It was an age-old dance, not as romantic as a waltz or a tango, but one that had defined their relationship for as long as either of them could remember.

And so Winry Rockbell was _not _about to be ordered around, _especially _by someone who used to piddle in her wading pool, someone who always, _always _stole the strawberries from her plate when he thought she wasn't looking; someone who, not too terribly long ago, had been reduced to a puddle of goo by the tip of her tongue placed against the back of his ear…

This last thought, and the memory of his helpless moaning, almost softened her resolve, _almost _made her want to give in to him…

Almost, but not quite.

_Edward, you do not know what you are missing…_

While she was resolving this and that, she also resolved to make the lactose-adverse Edward, and the large-looming specter of milk, her very _next _project…

_Milk is not only good for you, Edward; it makes so many things **worth **eating!_

Resolve now firmly back in place, she just shook her head, watching the beautiful, red-faced young man she adored do that thing he did so well; Edward was working himself up into quite the Mad.

Winry bit her lip to keep from laughing; at this distance, anyway, Edward's tantrum was pretty funny.

Striding confidently onto the porch, she folded her arms across her chest and very vehemently, very emphatically, shook her head: **_NO!!_**

Edward's response was more agitated wind-milling after which he paused, crimson faced, to sputter in place and fix her with a pointed glare, as if the wind-milling and sputtering ought to have changed her mind.

Which they did not.

Winry raised a single graceful finger and pointed it pointedly at the basket; the basket that contained the original, offending liquid. Then she punctuated her finger pointing with a single emphatic chin-point.

The message was not lost on Edward. He stared at her, utterly aghast, and then, in a real reversal, he huffed once and seemed to give in, bending to rummage through the basket.

A moment later, he had the milk bottle in his hand. But instead of giving in and drinking it, he spun to face her and with an evil look on his face, making certain he had her full attention, he poured the liquid rather dramatically out onto the grass.

His face showed a moment of triumphant satisfaction that quickly faded as he no doubt realized that he was still, in point of very parched fact, _quite thirsty_.

She regarded him with cool indifference.

Much as she adored him, it had been his choice to pour out his only source of relief.

Seeing she had no intention of complying with his eloquent request…

_…_Edward stormed across the lawn and up the steps, throwing open the weathered door, making certain he did so with enough force to bounce the thing off the side of the house, but not so much that it rebounded and smacked him in the face before he could stomp on through. Once inside, he stomped over to the ice box where he flung the door open, yanked out the pitcher of fresh lemonade that was sitting there, and drained its contents in one swallow…

From her post on the front porch where she'd moved not a muscle since his abrupt return, she could hear him making all sorts of noises in the kitchen – gasping and huffing in dramatic relief.

Still panting, wiping his mouth and chin with the front of his already lemonade-soaked black tank, Edward stomped back out onto the porch and had just begun his somewhat theatrical descent down the stairs when he froze on the step, cheeks suddenly flushing, golden eyes wide, as though he'd just remembered something of extreme importance.

Before she had a chance to ask him what was wrong _now_, he'd spun around on the stairs and come back onto the porch. While he resolutely avoided looking her in the eye, there was no mistaking the intensity of his expression.

A second later, he pulled her roughly into his arms, slipped one hand into her hair, and kissed her _hard_.

She had a moment to wonder at the unexpected gesture, so abrupt in the face of his most recent temper tantrum, as well as to revel in his obviously burgeoning skills – for a moment her knees went weak – before he just as abruptly pulled away, still without comment, stomping back down the stairs and across the lawn to the tree.

She touched her lip in awe.

_He-he wanted me to know he hasn't **forgotten…**_

_…how we started the day… _

Winry shivered.

She'd seen it before, but never in this particular context. Their morning had been fueled by a not-unappealing mix of excited energy and wide-eyed inexperience, but she had yet to see, or feel, _this. _

Edward's **_passion…_**

_He's gone back to read the book. What will happen when he finally "gets it?"_

She touched her lip again, then steadied herself with a hand to the railing.

_Oh, **god**…_

_tbc..._


	8. Learning Curve Pt 5

**Title:** Learning Curve – Part 5  
**Chapter:** 3/7 (Branded – series)  
**Author:** ibshafer  
**Rating:** R  
**Character/Pairing:** EdXWin… or is it WinXEd?…  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.  
**Summary:** In which Winry is introduced to Edward's passion, _("How do you do, Passion. Niiiice to meet you…") _and Edward just tries to _survive _Winry's book…

**Warnings:** sexual situations, but nothing too explicit  
**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; AU, I guess…  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Feedback:** _Yes_, please…

_from the previous chapter_

_A second later, he pulled her roughly into his arms, slipped one hand into her hair, and kissed her **hard. **_

_She had a moment to wonder at the unexpected gesture, so abrupt in the face of his recent temper tantrum, as well as to revel in his obviously burgeoning skills – for a moment her knees went weak – before he just as abruptly pulled away, still without comment, stomping back down the stairs and across the lawn to the tree._

_She touched her lip in awe._

_**He-he wanted me to know he hasn't forgotten…**_

…_**how we started the day…**_

_Winry shivered._

_She'd seen it before, but never in this particular context; their morning had been fueled by a not-unappealing mix of excited energy and wide-eyed inexperience, but she had yet to see, or feel, this. _

_Edward's **passion…**_

_He's gone back to read the book. What will happen when he finally "gets it?"_

_She touched her lip again, then steadied herself with a hand to the railing. _

_Oh, **god**…_

(section break)

_Strawberries…_

Winry tasted of strawberries.

On his way back down the hill, Edward spared himself a split second silent rant – miffed that there were no strawberries in _his _lunch, then his face flushed full out at his own impulsiveness.

_I…I **want **her…_

He was startled and surprised by the intensity of what he was feeling, keenly aware that it went far beyond some purely physical need.

The little winged cherub that stood in for Edward's heart, still blissed from its recent romantic getaway in the south with Edward's libido was now bouncing spiritedly against Edward's ribs and for once, Edward wasn't shooing it away in annoyance...

He _wanted _her.

_Why did I waste all that time having a stupid fit about milk when…_

Edward shivered, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

He touched his lip in wonder.

_Winry tastes of **strawberries…**_

(section break)

Halfway back to the tree, Ed had stopped dead in his tracks.

_What's he doing now?_

Face still flushed, Winry had found her way to a chair on the porch where she'd sat down, fanning herself with a free hand.

Breathless, she watched as Edward seemed to waver in place and she was shocked to realize she was actually _hoping _he'd given up on the book entirely.

Two voices were competing for airtime in her head.

'_**Yesss,** Edward!' _one was saying_ 'Come back **now**.'_

The other voice, cooler and far less amnesiac said, '_Don't rush him, Winry. Let him do the **research **first. Or do you **like **being frustrated?'_

Her heart was still beating like a greased steam piston, though, and it was beginning to look like the amnesia might be winning.

_Forget the book! We don't **need **it! _

_Oh, god, if he touches me like **that** again, I might… I might just…**finish **on the **spot…**_

Edward still hadn't moved any closer to the tree and _now _he seemed to be searching the grass for answers.

She watched in wonder as he reached up and touched his lip and she let out an unconscious gasp before she could stop herself.

_Yes, Edward! I know you feel it, too! Come back up here now! Come up here and show me how you **really **feel…_

She had both hands on the railing now and when Edward shook his head, resolutely turning back towards the tree, she almost fell over the edge and onto the grass below…

_No!!!_

She wanted to run down the hill after him and throw herself into his arms.

She wanted to throw him to the ground, and herself, on top of him.

She wanted to…

But Edward was walking back to the blanket as though he'd just been listening to his _own _internal dialog and had, for _once _in his life, opted to err on the side of logic.

_This is no time to **start**, Edward!!_

Then again, she knew she should be grateful, she knew she should be _touched_, that her own happiness obviously meant so much to him; she was pretty damn sure – he had pulled her _very _close, how could she _not _be sure – that were Edward obeying his _own _impulses right now, he would have run back up that hill and enlisted her aid in breaking in the new patio furniture…

Winry popped another strawberry into her mouth, chewing very deliberately.

_Read fast, Edward…_

(section break)

Edward was gritting his teeth as he made his way back to the tree.

It had taken every ounce of self-control he had not to rush back up that hill and embarrass them both in front of whatever passing neighbor happened by…

But that wouldn't have been the right thing to do.

It would have been **fun**; _shit,_ it would have been _freaking fantastic_, but what would he do if…if the _result_ were the same as all their previous attempts?

Winry wasn't the most patient person in the world and that there were no new knots on his skull was a testament to just how badly she wanted this to work – for **_both _**of them.

How much longer would that patience hold out?

That he'd been unable to do for her what she'd so _completely _done for him, was no small source of humiliation for him. After all, he was known far and wide as someone with great skill – _at alchemy_.

Wasn't sex just another form of alchemy?; turning chemical and electrical impulses, sights, sounds, and sensations, into one all-consuming systemic reaction that built in intensity and emotion, elevated the heart and mind, increased respiration, output _new _electrical impulses and produced still more chemicals, and eventually…_climaxed _in one (hopefully) shared, sweaty, _exhilarating _conclusion that filled the senses and left mind and body shaken.

If he couldn't get _this _right, he had no business calling himself an alchemist.

_Shit, if I can't get this right, I've got no business calling myself a **man**…_

He'd also found a new sensation elbowing its way into the mix.

It just plain _hurt _to disappoint her.

In her short life, Winry had lost _almost _as much as he and Al had and so she deserved _happiness _just as much as they did.

And it was right that _he _be the one to give that to her: she'd given _him _so much – and not just _today_.

A long time ago, she'd given him back his _life_.

He _wanted _to make her happy.

Edward was determined to do whatever it took to make that happen.

If it meant that even though he'd read the Bastard's Sex Manual and fully understood all the mechanics involved, he _still _needed to read _Winry's _book, then he would do that.

If it meant subjecting himself to further humiliation at the hands of the arrogant ape and his barely clothed, lascivious maiden, he would (sigh) do _that_.

And if it meant sacrificing the overworked vein in his forehead, the one that even _now _was threatening to escape through his skin to beat a hasty, but well-deserved, retreat for parts unknown… then he guessed he would have to bid it a fond farewell and try to live on without it…

After a last moment's procrastination to root through the basket, (_she **did **pack strawberries!), _Edward was back at the tree, Winry's well-loved paperback in hand.

Chewing a berry and studiously avoiding the judgmental gazes of the goon and gooness on the cover, Edward laid the book out on his left palm and was poised to crack the spine at whatever random passage he happened to hit, when he noticed the pages righting themselves at a particular point.

He giggled at the thought (_must be a favorite spot of hers…), _then remembering he'd had a few favorite spots of his _own _(the image of Diagram 4 floated through his mind and his blood, now somewhat rested after a brief nap, dutifully rushed back upstairs), Edward's face flushed hotly.

Keep his breathing and heart rate normal by sheer force of will alone Edward began to read.

Thirty minutes later found the book splayed face down on the blanket and Edward, having gone through an altogether entertaining array of facial expressions, now red-faced and gasping desperately for air.

He'd started out, of course, by blushing his fool head off.

The ape and his conquest were adventurous and altogether much more forward with each other than any two people had reason to be. Especially two people who the book, and its so-called author, expected one to believe, had _only met an hour ago_… Banter was exchanged, flowery compliments given; there was a lot of heavy breathing and a lot of heavy, _creative,_ touching.

Along about this point, Edward's libido woke up from its post-vacation nap, and, seeing much to its liking on those wordy, sweat-soaked pages, decided to call a close buddy who lived just south of the border, one who would appreciate the entertainment just as much. This spurred a new spate of blushing, some deep, labored breathing and what appeared to be a _math exercise._ (Edward had counted to ten over and over until the worst of his … embarrassment had passed…)

As the ribald adventure on the book's pages continued – _and continued_, it became a contest to see which would happen first; would Edward come to a humiliating and completely inappropriate conclusion of his _own_ – or would he simply just _pass out…?_

In the end, he was saved, as it were, by a flower.

A flower and a deep, helpless belly laugh.

On its own, it wasn't a particularly _funny _flower, certainly not one possessed of any immediately recognizable comedic skills. For the most past, it was generally not a flower that would have even gotten noticed were it standing on its own in a vase or, _au naturale_, in its home habitat.

The author, showing off shamelessly and with much verbal virtuosity, described said flower in abundant and, well, _flowery_ detail, far more detail than any single flower, nay, any single _person_, deserved: the length, breadth and color of its stem; the shape of its leaves and the fragrance released when they were pinched between thumb and forefinger; the texture of its petals, the scent, the flavor, the soft shooshing _sound _they made when they were touched by cool mountain breezes or drawn across luscious exposed skin…

By the time Edward realized how annoyed and impatient he was, he was too committed to the passage, expecting something worthwhile at its conclusion, to turn away from the page.

And so, he read on. And on…

After several needlessly long, protracted paragraphs, the literary excursion of excess finally, and ultimately, ground towards its single less-than-astounding destination

The gist of all that drivel, the basic _concept _of The Flower was…that it was both red and smelly.

A good kind of smelly, from the response its sudden introduction to the proceedings garnered from the, by then, panting maiden.

And while Edward's relief at seeing that ridiculous passage draw to a close, coupled with the rather underwhelming conclusion of all that misused descriptive language, was enough on its own to bring about a tiny bubbling swell of relieved mirth, it would have ended there, dying an ignoble, forgettable death, were it not for what the author wanted him (well, and any other unsuspecting reader) to believe happened next.

The flower, for its part, had no real autonomy here, and was not an interactive part of what was to follow. Therefore, it deserved none of the blame. (In fact, Edward imagined it screaming, "How _dare _you?! Put me down _NOW_!!")

No, that little bit of creative idiocy belonged solely to the ape himself. (_And_, Edward reminded himself, the so-called, and forever to be ridiculed, "author" Yuki Eiri…)

What happened next was completely unexpected, completely bizarre and rendered Edward completely, and utterly, incapable of normal respiration…

_What kind of degenerate uses a flower to … to … _

At first he was too stunned to react, in a stupor as he was from all that prose.

The unsuspecting flower was clasped between blocky teeth, bushy Neanderthal eyebrows were waggled suggestively, and the maiden giggled her response, shedding what little clothing remained her.

This ridiculous display was embarrassingly clichéd, not that Edward was particularly familiar with overused romance novel sexual conventions, but it merely earned an eye roll and nothing more.

When the ape dragged the stem from his teeth and started to it run up and down his partner's arms, this seemed silly and somewhat pointless, but again, Edward barely reacted.

But then the ape decided that arms weren't enough and what he really wanted was to draw the poor, abused flower's petals over the maiden's soft…heaving…flushed…

Edward was giggling before he had any idea he was amused. (In point of fact, amused was the _last _thing he was…)

The beleaguered flower was drawn first over one pointed mound (Edward saw stars and burst out into helpless laughter) and then the other, accompanied by breathless moaning from the maiden and what was fast becoming a case of noisy asphyxiation for Edward.

_No, way!! There, too?!!!_

Dropping the book, Edward gave the impulse free reign, rolling from side to side on the blanket, struggling for air as he attempted to stem the tide of inadvertent, wholly embarrassed mirth.

What was so funny about this?

Were Edward able to think straight, (had not every _single _geek deserted its post and run for the hills), he would no doubt admit that there was not a _thing _funny about this.

No, what was making Edward laugh so helplessly was not actual amusement, but actual _embarrassment;_ this couple's lovemaking put a very real spin on the reality, the _actuality _of sex.

_T-this is what sex is? _

What it _could _be?

Is this was what people _did_?

_Is this what _I'm _supposed to be doing? _

He was freaked beyond reason and the only thing, the _only _thing, his mind could think to do, was laugh out loud like he'd he saved up reacting to ever single joke he'd ever heard in his life until just this minute.

But nothing, _nothing _was funny.

Not at all.

While he was rolling around on the blanket like a loon, he opened his tear-filled eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of the porch.

Winry stood leaning over the railing; mouth frozen in surprise. Even at this distance, he could see her blue eyes were open wide and her expression was one of complete and utter frustration.

_Oh, man…_

_There you go… You disappointed her **again…**_

(section break)

_What the hell? _

_What is he doing now?_

Why hadn't she known Edward was such a drama queen?

No, wait – she knew that. Of _course_, she knew that.

She'd known him all his life, had occasion to see him react, and _over_react, to all sorts of run of the mill things; all of which she could predict, see coming from a mile away, and handle neatly with a glare or a swing of her wrench.

_Easy-peasy._

Then she had to go and introduce sex into the mix. How did she _think _he was gonna handle it?

Well, for one, she thought he _might _have had a little more experience than he did. That he hadn't – had _any_ – had actually been a mildly flattering, and somewhat _exciting_, realization. _("I get to share all of this with him for the first time; I get to see all his first reactions, get to **cause **all of his first reactions…")_ More than somewhat, that had been an _incredibly_ exciting concept.

That he'd be embarrassed by simply every stage of this, was a surprise and, in spite of the aggravation, and her increasing…frustration, it was a surprise that was actually a little endearing.

She had wanted to open his mind, _shit_, she'd wanted to _blow _his mind; clearly, _clearly _she had done that.

But now it was starting to look like she'd _really _blown his mind, or _something _had, anyway.

Either that or he was just laughing like an idiot because he found her book funny, which she supposed, turnabout/fair-play and all, she deserved.

_All that energy could be put to better use…_

Standing on the porch, gamely resisting the urge to run down to the tree and either throttle him, or find some _other _way to shut him up, she leaned herself far over the railing and simply stared.

(section break)

_tbc…_


	9. Learning Curve Pt 6

**Title:** Learning Curve – Part 6  
**Chapter:** 3/7 (Branded – series)  
**Author:** ibshafer  
**Rating:** R  
**Character/Pairing:** EdXWin… or is it WinXEd?…  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.  
**Summary:** In which Edward has some inappropriate fantasies about Colonel Mustang _(I'm a tease, I know it!) _and comes to a very, _very_ important realization; _the stage is set for the chapter's finale..._

**Warnings:** sexual situations, but nothing too explicit (yet...)  
**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; AU, I guess…  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Feedback:** _Yes_, please…

_from the previous chapter_

_T-this is what sex is? _

_What it could be? _

_Is this was what people _did?

_Is this what _I'm _supposed to be doing? _

_He was freaked beyond reason and the only thing, the _only _thing, his mind could think to do, was laugh out loud like he'd he saved up reacting to ever single joke he'd ever heard in his life until just this minute. _

_But nothing, _nothing _was funny. _

_Not at all._

_While he was rolling around on the blanket like a loon, he opened his tear-filled eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of the porch._

_Winry stood leaning over the railing; mouth frozen in surprise. Even at this distance, he could see her blue eyes were open wide and her expression was one of complete and utter frustration._

_Oh, man…_

_There you go… You disappointed her again…_

(section break)

_Get a _grip_, Elric!_

His automail hand, as if to illustrate that directive, suddenly pinched the flesh of his right thigh painfully.

"_Ow!!" _he squeaked, as though unconnected to the hand. (Sometimes he caught it doing things he flat out hadn't told it to do; he'd often suspected Winry had built in some sort of remote controlling mechanism. He wouldn't put it past her – she was crafty like that…)

Another pinch.

"_Ow-_ow_!" _

_Had _to be Winry. Who pinches their _own _thigh?

"_Ow-ow-OW!" _

…Some _guilty _someone, that's who…

_Crap…_

The pain was doing a good job of grounding him and while his nerves were still twitching, his mind was starting to clear.

_What a jerk I am._

All of the humor and all of the fight had gone out of him and now he just felt like a rather large pile of something the cows had left behind…

Feeling boneless, he relaxed in the position he'd last twitched in; flat on his back, head angled towards the porch where a clearly frustrated Winry was very clearly reaching her boiling point.

The pain in his thigh seemed to magically migrate to the center of his chest, even without the aid of helpful, pinching fingers.

Edward sighed heavily.

_You're really _hopeless_, you know that? You'd think a guy who screws up just about everything he touches would try to _avoid _doing that when he could._

_You'd think a guy whose entire life revolves around making up for totally and completely fucking up someone _else's _life would be a little bit less selfish, too…_

_You're a major shit, you know that?_

Rubbing absently at the dull ache in his chest, Edward couldn't help but agree with himself.

(section break)

_If he falls asleep like that, I'm going to kill him…_

Winry sighed heavily.

_Why is this all so damned difficult?_

Before she could stop it, a rueful laugh escaped from between her tightly clenched teeth.

_It's Edward. Why were you expecting anything different?_

This would be so much easier if she didn't love him so much. She could just toss his clothes out onto the lawn, slam the door in his face and hope she didn't run into him on the street anytime soon. Well, that was what the plucky heroines of the dime store novels did, anyway.

Winry counted to ten, twice, until the urge to maim had passed.

In place of the throttling he so clearly deserved, Winry instead opted to head back inside and find something constructive to do; perhaps she could perfect that remote controlling module she'd been dreaming about.

The rueful laugh edged dangerously close to a demonic cackle.

How convenient would it be if she could just get him to throttle _himself_…

(section break)

_Sigh…_

Clearly, this was not going to work.

Books were usually the beginning and ending of all research; the alpha and omega, as it were.

This time, though, the books were just gumming up the works.

What he'd learned from his own textbook, and from the…um, lab practical and end-of-chapter self-tests, anyway, was that there were was _waaaay_ more to…to _this _than could be taught with simple step-by-step instructions. And getting it wrong the first time could permanently damage the…um, future performance of even the _best _student.

Edward's inner movie screen flashed an image of a black-haired demon with a curled lip and delusions of grandeur.

_What a bastard! He's probably sitting back there at that big desk of his laughing his double-wrapped ass off. Probably got a high-paid snitch stationed in some tree nearby, ready to report back all the gory details—_

Ed paused in his musings to scan the branches above him. Shaking his head at the lengths to which is own ridiculous imagination sometimes took him, he turned back to the rant at hand…

_Winry's right – _someone _should teach him a lesson._

A faint smile crept onto his face as his ridiculous imagination redeemed itself, spinning a happy reel of footage depicting all manner of devilish revenge wrought by hands both flesh and steel upon the person of one smirking, egotistical – _and while we're on the subject, _cowardly –_Colonel_…

_(Mustang pleading for his life – __**whining like a girl!**__ – dangling by one foot in front of that big window he was so fond of cleaning when he was _supposed _to be working, suddenly finding an actual _purpose _for that ridiculous butt skirt – and at the same time, getting to work on the _outside _of the window for a change; Edward prancing on the bastard's pristine – because it never saw _work_ – desk, cackling with glee as the Colonel reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve his super-duper flamey gloves, the ones embroidered with that lethal array, to find instead, a pair decorated with fuzzy duckies and bunnies that squeaked when he slipped his hands into them; and so on…) _

Edward spared himself a gleeful giggle.

_It might be worth the court marshall…_

When the happy fantasy cleared, which it did far sooner than he would have liked – so pretty were the thoughts – Edward's cranium returned to his most current, and urgent, dilemma.

_**How do I make Winry happy…**_

What he'd learned, what he'd _actually _learned, from _Winry's _resource, was that it was important to act in a way that was natural to you, to how _you _felt. Anything else was just plain silly, no matter how much fun the illustrating couple seemed to be having. _They weren't real._

'_What do you _feel _Edward,' she'd asked him._

Firing up the logic centers of his brain, Edward leveled his not inconsiderable analytical powers to break it all down.

_What do I feel?_

There were two people in Edward's life that _mattered _more than life itself. He had no question how he felt about one.

Al. _Alphonse_…

'_Deeper, Edward. What do you _feel_?'_

But how did he feel about the other?

At this point, Edward's libido's best buddy raised a hand to interject and the goons in the command center, relieved to finally have something worthwhile to do, helpfully rushed to cue up the latest image reel…

Edward growled them all down and somehow, _somehow _managed to clear his mind of the distracting, albeit pleasant, memories.

Enough,_ moron! How do you _really _feel? _

Another image swam before his eyes and Edward flushed hotly; a smiling, excited Winry, thrilled by some new technological marvel, grabbing his arm to share it with him, wondering aloud if she could work some aspect of it into improving his automail.

She was always thinking about _him_. Even in her work, in her need to grow stronger, more skilled: _it was all for him_. Well, part of it was for her inner geek, to be sure, but the rest, the _rest _was for him, for improving his life.

It was always for _him. _

Edward shivered, suddenly overwhelmed by the responsibility of what this meant.

_He was important to her._

As if in answer, a tiny fluttering of warmth was called to life in the center of his chest. So tangible was the feeling he found himself looking downward, half expecting to see a glowing ember through the black fabric of his shirt. He could see nothing, but the ember grew all the same, expanding like the cloud of some confined chemical reaction, continuing to expand until the heat of it had spread to his fingers and toes and had soundly filled every square inch of him.

With wonder dawning, Edward found himself smiling. (Smiling so hard his face was threatening to mutiny).

_Oh…_

So _that's _what that feels like…

_tbc…_


	10. Learning Curve Pt 7 FINAL

**A/N: **Almost four years ago, I began writing a series of humorous EdXWin stories called Branded that followed the pair as they negotiated the treacherous sexual obstacle course known as 'first time love.' Whilst Ed and Winry struggled to make it to the finish line alive, I let myself get distracted by the pretty lights and colors of other story series… Spreading myself too thin, I finished nothing. I also let RL take control of the muse too often. And so, four years later, having beaten my brain cells into submission, I now _finally_ bring you the conclusion of story 3 of the **Branded** Series, **Learning Curve**, in its entirety, without commercial interruption or subtitles… Hope the stalwarts are still hanging in and the newbies aren't too confused. [Below are links to the other chapters/parts of the series, #1 Branded, #2 Kiss and Tell, and #3 (parts 1-6) of Learning Curve.]

Feel free to throw tomatoes and lettuce, folks! (I deserve it!) And maybe a cuke and some mushrooms, too? (I'm in the mood for salad.)

To those happy to see this and those still hanging in there with me – thanks and I'm grateful!

Extra special thanks go out to **alchemyotaku75**for her tireless cheerleading, endless encouragement and the dangling of more than one exciting carrot...

~Ai

**Story: **Learning Curve (3/7) - COMPLETED

**Series: **Branded

**Author:** ibshafer

**Rating:** Hard R

**Character/Pairing:** EdXWin... or is it WinXEd?...

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.

**Summary:** In which Edward and Winry get some alone time...and in which the course of true love runs anything but smoothly...

**Warnings:** profanity, sexual situations, explicit without naming names, if you catch my drift…

**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; AU, I guess...

**Spoilers:** none

**Feedback:** _Yes_, please...

**Series Chapters:**

_[complete]_1. Branded – In which Ed finds Winry's signature on his automail…

_.net/s/2770990/1/Branded_

_[complete]_2. Kiss and Tell – In which Al tries to get some details out of Ed, who, it

turns out, _doesn't_…

_.net/s/2770990/2/Branded_

_[complete]_3. Learning Curve – Ed may be a prodigy, but the best lessons can be the

hardest to learn…

.net/s/2770990/4/Branded - part 1

.net/s/2770990/5/Branded - part 2

.net/s/2770990/6/Branded - part 3

.net/s/2770990/7/Branded - part 4

.net/s/2770990/8/Branded - part 5

.net/s/2770990/9/Branded - part 6

[part 7 follows here…]

4. (Re)Conditioned Responses – In which Winry tries to break Ed of his

milk aversion, any way she can…

5. Even Steven – Ed finds a way to even the score…

6. Two Bits – Shave and a haircut…and confession time.

7. Coda – No good deed goes unpunished, as Roy is about to find out.

Learning Curve – Part 7 (FINAL)

_~ibshafer_

Oh!

Something had changed.

Putting the last of the days' lunch remnants into the ice box, Winry froze in place, trying to trace the source. The light, temperature, noise level in the room; all were the same.

What is it?

For a second, she thought maybe Edward had come back to the house, but a glance out the window told her he was still stretched out under the tree.

Something was different, though.

Stepping closer to the glass, she peered out at him.

What's he doing?

Flat on his back, Edward lay absently rubbing at the center of his chest and even at this distance she could see his chest heaving, his face flushed. He was also...smiling.

She told herself that he must have just finished some great scene in the book and that was what the red face and heavy breathing was all about.

But she couldn't shake the impression that something else had happened.

Why am I shivering?

(section break)

Still breathing heavily, he felt his cheeks flushing and for once didn't damn his blood for giving his feelings away. Who was there to see it, anyway?

Right now, he had other things to think about.

Why do I never see the stuff that's right the hell in front of me?

Against all odds, against all mirth, despite full baskets of chicken sandwiches and huge brownies with _no _lemonade, despite that ridiculous book and the ridiculous ego-poking he'd taken at its expense, _Edward had gotten it._

The blood rushed to his face, and his head spun a few clicks, and he understood what she'd clearly, clearly sent him out there to understand.

Somehow, that overstuffed, verbally effusive simian had broken through both Edward's ego and his nerves and had made him see what he'd so been unable to up until now...

_I have to _make Winry happy_. _

How could he have missed this for so long?

Oh, right. Because he had been too fucking focused on what it all felt like for him. Like it was all about him, had always been about him.

_I'm a selfish bastard..._

His first impulse was to throw himself at her feet and beg for mercy, but as much as he deserved a new knot on his head, it might actually be counterproductive.

He knew what he really had to do. And now he knew _why. _

_I have to make Winry...__er, what was that word she used...?_

Whatever it was called, he had to do it.

First and foremost, because she deserved it and because (the cherub whipped a hand out and grabbed his Sanity before it could bolt for the door)_ ...because he l-loved her._

_'This is what you do to me, Edward...'_

And secondly, he had to do it, had to make _sure _he did it, because...well...hadn't she done it for _him_?

As the geeks happily supplied images in full living color and sound, Edward felt his cheeks start to flame.

The way she'd kissed him, the way she'd touched him, the way she'd made him _feel_...

She'd made him feel so _good_...

She'd been hoping and planning for this for a long time now - _because she wanted him. _

Edward caught himself shivering and delighted in it, realizing the memory had become a physical sensation.

And she'd put so much into this whole...whole, for lack of a better word, _thing_, and had tried so, so hard to please him, _it was only fair. _(And Edward was, in all things, fair.)

_Oh, what a fuck-up I am..._

He wanted to kick the _snot _out of himself, he _deserved _to have the snot kicked out of him, but that would have to wait until muuuuch, much later.

Right now there was a long-legged blond - a leggy blond no doubt plotting his demise at the same kitchen table they'd eaten meals at since they were kids - who needed to have her _mind _blown.

**(section break)**

Winry was standing at the kitchen window wiping down the counter with a lemon yellow dishrag when a sudden movement on the front lawn drew her attention.

She quickly registered that - once again - Edward was no longer at his post under the tree and that - once again - he was stomping his way back towards the house, determination - once... well, you know where this is going - etched into every muscle.

'What _now?' _she thought with a sigh of frustration. No doubt she'd unconsciously subjected him - once again - to some insufferable culinary, or literary, insult. She was about to steel herself for the tirade to come when her eagle Edward eye spied something both barely perceptible and radically altered in his flushed, wide-eyed countenance.

_'Wait a minute... Where's the Pissed Off?'_ she thought, chest filling with confusion. _'I don't see any Pissed Off...'_

Gone was the pinched-eyebrow look she'd seen when Edward had launched himself at the house in a fit of pique, desperate for lemonade to wash down that very rich brownie she'd packed him. Gone, too, was the intellectual superiority he'd sputtered at the idea of sitting under a tree reading a _"god-damned romance novel," _particularly, he'd said, _"while there was sex, even __**bad **__sex, to be had." _(She'd assured him that until he understood the difference, until he made certain it was _Good Sex, _they would not be having _any _kind of sex at all...)

There was neither pique nor superiority on Edwards sublimely flushed face.

_What the..._

Not at all what she had learned to expect from the boy-man she loved-hated.

What there was, she could see as he got closer to the house, was an intensity, a coal-hot intensity, that despite its apparent heat sent a shiver down her spine and a corresponding flutter in her belly; a steam engine of determination powering towards her at full, self-possessed speed.

_O-oh, God..._

She spun around and groped for the counter, knees suddenly failing her.

_Edward had "gotten it."_

**(section break)**

Just a hundred feet now, but it felt like he would never get there.

The big house bounced on the hill ahead of him (well, he was stomping, after all - _everything _was bouncing), but all he could think about was getting there and...and _touching_ her...

He'd been too busy feeling his own sensations before, to think about hers, but now...now he couldn't _wait _to make her feel the things she'd made him feel - or rather, the corresponding _girly _feelings.

He wanted to make her _scream..._

Edward burst into nervous laughter.

_Did you really just __**think **__that?_

He almost faltered, but his pounding legs chose to ignore his silly brain and continued to propel him back towards the big yellow house.

_Y-you jacked that straight out of that damn book..._

A breathless giggle.

_OK, so what if _was _inspired by something the ape said? It's true, isn't it? _

He _did _want to make her scream.

He wanted to touch her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to explore and taste and-

_Fuck..._

Deciding stomping wasn't the fastest mode of travel he sprinted the last fifty feet up the hill and bounded up the steps.

He wanted her _now._

He found her gripping the kitchen counter, face flushed, knees threatening to give out...

She gave a little squeak of surprise when he stumbled through the door, but that was all she had time for before he swooped in, catching her as she slid to the floor, pulling her up into his arms.

His heart was beating so fast he was shaking and, pressed against her, he could feel hers hammering away just as fast.

"E-Edward?" she managed to breath out, but Edward gave her a look that said they were _done_ talking.

One hand at the small of her back to support her, the other instantly buried deep in her hair, he drew her to him and kissed her with such purpose, such passion, that his _own _knees started to waver.

He could feel the feeling start to overtake him, the one that had compelled him that morning to rabidly explore all his _own _first-timer's needs, and leave Winry's in the dust, but with help from both the Cherub and Edward's heretofore silent Sense of Fair Play, Edward's lust was successfully reigned in, stifling the wanton tremor that had been heading for his hips.

Pressing himself completely against her, he filled all her negative space, delighting in the curves and soft planes of her, in the way they fit together so well, in the way her body shook, knowing she was feeling the _want _in him_, _serious as stone and just as hard.

He could feel the want in her, _too; _the way her trembling body responded when he pressed himself to her, there could be no denying what she was feeling.

He had bothhands in her hair now, mouth at her throat, silently chanting his new mantra:

_Make Winry happy. Make Winry happy. Make Winry happy..._

_**(section break)**_

_G-God? If it isn't too much to ask, could you please not let me faint until _after_ this is over!_

Winry couldn't breathe. Edward had overtaken her so quickly, so completely, that she was fairly certain she hadn't taken a single breath since he'd stumbled through the kitchen door.

He had his hands deep in her hair, his mouth mobile and expressive against hers and everywhere, _everywhere_ he touched her she could feel his heat and his desire and his _need..._

She wasn't so swept away, though, that she didn't noticed something was different.

He wasn't rubbing himself against her like a dog in heat or lying back waiting for her to please him.

No, he seemed to have transformed his need, _transmuted _it, into something that was shaped, defined, _focused _on her. On what _she _needed. As he mapped out the boundaries of her mouth, his tongue was insistent, but gentle. As he trailed fingertips up her sides, down her back, across her shivering belly, his hands were fervent, but controlled, not blindly aggressive.

Even his _heat _was different.

With a swoon, she realized what it was that she was feeling in him; something long-awaited, something she'd never seen, let alone felt, in this context.

_Edward's passion..._

_**(section break)**_

Somewhere between the tree and the kitchen, Edward had stopped thinking.

He'd switched off his brain (the geeks were thrilled for the time off; now they could watch the show!) and let himself be propelled entirely by his feelings, allowing them to speed his heart, animate his limbs, and guide his hands and fingers and lips and tongue to the fulfillment of, the completion of, the winning _achievement _of his goal: _Make Winry Happy. _

Those feelings, knowing full well how to accomplish that lofty goal, breathed fire and infinite inspiration into his every movement, creating dance and art and sculpture rolled neatly and fervently into one all-consuming package.

Moved by no force he'd ever known, Edward almost felt he'd stepped _outside _of himself, felt himself lifted from his body to observe the scene currently folding and unfolding beneath him as though from over his own shoulder, but then breathless moans and pleading sighs would draw him back to his own body, anchoring him to the moment, anchoring him completely and utterly to her, as though the act of bringing her pleasure was his sole reason for existing on this earth.

In fascination, he drew trembling fingers across smooth skin, pushed up a shirt hem, pulled down a sleeve, uncovering warm swells and rosy pinkness as if for the first time, tasting delicately, then encouraged by still more sweet, deep sounds, suckling with growing fervor and heat. He let his tongue and fingers draw a map, an _array, _across her shivering body, an array that began when he silenced her mouth with his own and ended when he knelt before her and with a touch, brought all those lines to life.

He would never have thought to behave so before.

He hadn't had a _clue _how he was supposed to behave back then.

Satisfaction, passion and a little outside inspiration had changed all of that.

And now...now he could share that with the one person, the _only _person, he could ever have wanted.

With a shiver of his own, of longing and of something deeper, he kissed a line inward across the sweet white skin of her thigh and then, with the cabinets behind her and his spreading fingers guiding him home, he pressed her more firmly to him - and he to her.

**(section break)**

Winry was pretty sure that her last surviving brain cells had just dripped out her nose.

_Th-th-this wasn't in my book! _

_This wasn't in __**his **__book! _

_W-where did he learn to __**d-do **__that?_

The edge of the counter was cutting into her back, but she didn't care, couldn't really feel it. All sensation seemed to be gathered...elsewhere.

_Oh, god. If he stops, I'll just die..._

Her bones had clearly gone on extended vacation somewhere and if it weren't for the cabinets behind her and the masterful way he held her without really holding on, she'd have melted into the floor a long time ago.

She managed enough muscular control, though, to raise her head and peer down to where Edward knelt at her feet.

_Messy blond braid - check._

_Trademark black tank - check. _

_Precision automail made by the best - check..._

She'd just needed to make certain that it was, indeed, _Edward_ down there, because...well, because no way, no _how, _would she ever have expected this, not in a million, billion years, certainly not without wheedling, cajoling or, let's face it, _bribery,_ but yessiree, that was definitely _him _down there.

_Oh, my god!_

She shivered, felt herself running out of air. He was holding on more tightly now, fingers moving, _tongue..._

_D-did he just _moan_?_

All coherent thought stopped as Edward did something with that precision automail she'd only allowed herself in the dead of the darkest night to contemplate...

**(section break)**

No book, no resource, no arrogant colonel or blushing, beautiful blond, could have prepared him for what he now knew.

It was simple enough to say that when Winry was happy, "It" was better, but he'd truly had no idea what that could mean. None at all.

When Inspiration had suggested he…explore her in a way he might have previously run screaming at the mere mention of, he'd been caught up in the fevered mood and complied because it _seemed_ like a Good Thing to do.

This turned out to be the understatement of every century since the creation of Time itself.

He'd suspected that touching her…in _just that way_…with his _right_ hand, or rather, with just a couple of the metal digits from his right hand, would have elicited some sort of pleased-type response from her, (he'd often thought that she only loved him for his automail), but the purely reflexive response her _body_ gave said more than mere vocal chords ever could.

Fluid speed and heat, words chanted in silence against moist skin, against the flooded, now familiar, topography of her hidden reaches, and he nearly lost control of her as she arched back on herself, arms flung wide across the countertop. She dug her heals deep into the small of his back and somehow, somehow, without even so much as a _touch_ to himself, he was moaning against her, sailing well and truly over the edge himself.

**(section break)**

When he'd once again regained the use of his eyes and ears and the fevered roaring in his head had lowered a few decibels (clearly, the geeks in the Speech Center had decided that cheering was no longer an adequate exclamation for the occasion and had taken up furiously banging on pots and pans and, from the sound of it, each other's heads, instead.), Edward swore he could hear a choir of angels singing, which was odd because, well, he didn't exactly believe in them, now did he?

_Heavenly voices?_

W-wait a minute.

That was no angel choir.

That particular sound was, sadly, familiar to him.

It was, in fact...

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT..._

_Winry was _crying_._

Sweet mother of pogo-sticks, what did it take to _please her_?!

And then his sex-addled brain did a double-take, because, well, he was reasonably sure, to the best of his very limited ability that she had, in fact...

From the pitch of her voice a minute ago and the dual bruises he was certain were now forming at the base of his spine, he'd been quite sure that he'd finally, _finally_, gotten it Right.

Why else would someone scream, _**'YES! YES! YESSSS!'**_ at the top of their lungs?

She _had _to have, right?

Didn't she?

_Damnit!! I thought I understood!_

How _couldn't_ she have?

S-she'd...

Edward gulped and fought for air at the very recent memory.

She'd ..._squeezed_ him in a place, in a way, he hadn't known she could.

It was so much more..._more _than how it had been that morning and the way she'd screamed his name, the way she'd held him, the way she'd begged him not to stop, sent him so far over a clearly different edge than he'd been over before, he almost felt like this time had been _his _first time.

Wow.

And that's when the Geeks, those not already comatose, had broken out into the ultimate happy dance, screaming, belching, pot-hammering in absolute brain-melting glee.

And so he called forth the courage, in the face of confusion and not a little fear and looked up at Winry's flushed face.

Blue eyes half-closed, she was panting heavily, and, yes, tears streaked her cheeks, but the edges of her lips (swollen, Edward noticed with vague satisfaction) were turned up and every so often, she'd intersperse her whimpers with a giddy laugh (and here Edward's groin felt itself flutter) accompanied by a low, breathless moan.

So, _this_ was what a happy Winry looked like...

He liked it.

The geeks jumped to, spinning numerous scenarios for how they could make her look that way again, but Ed waved them away with a cheeky grin.

He didn't need their help anymore.

He didn't need anything but Winry.

**(section break)**

She'd been floating somewhere near the ceiling for several minutes now.

At least, that's how it felt, what with the lack of oxygen to her brain and her blood rushing around anywhere and everywhere but to her head.

When the breathless euphoria finally subsided, though to be honest, she was going to feel _damn good_ for at least the next couple of hours, she remembered that she was, in fact, not alone here in the…_where_ was she? Oh, yeah, the kitchen.

She was in the kitchen, sprawled on the countertop in a manner most unseemly and the source of her euphoria was currently sprawled on the floor at her feet, if the cool metal fingers gently stroking her calf were any indication.

_Edward…_

Edward had figured It out.

And he had figured it out in a way she could not only never have predicted, but in a way she would never have expected from even their _tenth_ session.

Edward had done very, _very_ well.

How he'd done that, how he'd managed such inspiration when the hours preceding had been so fraught with confusion and, let's face it, utter reluctance, was a matter she most dearly wished to understand, but first…_first_, in the spirit of fair and equitable pleasure, there was a little matter of good old fashioned reciprocity at hand. And then some.

Curling her currently boneless body around, she let gravity to the bulk of the work, dropping to the floor in a trembling, giddy heap.

She found him propped against the cabinets, a dopey expression on his drowsy face.

He should have been spastic and desperate at that point, in agonized need of release, and she spared not a moment in contemplation of the incongruous expression on his sweat-shined, but still wondrous face. There was no time to lose. She owed him that. And so she kissed him. Hard.

She leaned in deep, pressed herself to his somehow boneless body, and expressed, with her lips and her tongue and the languid movements of her hands, what he'd just done for her, what she felt for him and what both of these events entitled him to.

After several inspired minutes of such thanks, she pulled away to survey his breathless, grinning face.

"Thank you," she breathed, drawing his hand to her lips to kiss. "I take back everything I said before. Thank you, Edward, so, so much. And now," she said, grinning evilly, "I believe it's _your_ turn…"

His seemed not to register what she had said. His unfocused expression continued and fearing he might already be too far gone, she began to lower herself into a position more conducive to the work at hand, fingers to the elastic of his shorts.

There was enough time for a breathless, "huh?" from above and then a cool metal hand was cupping her chin, drawing her away from her target.

She found Edward's golden eyes narrowed and locked on hers.

"What are you doing, Winry," he asked, guiding her back into a seated position.

She would not have thought it possible, after all they had done, after the force of her release just now, but she suddenly found herself embarrassed and blushing.

"I was going to help you…_you_ know…"

Unable to speak it, another shocking realization, she could only point with her gaze, an eyebrow raised in suggestion, her face a blazing crimson.

Now it was Edward's turn to blush, but his embarrassment was brief.

"Ooooh," he said softly, then he glanced downward with a lopsided grin. "No need."

_No need?_

Now she was _really_ speechless.

How was that possible?

She was distinctly aware of what and how the previous fifteen minutes had transpired and ever the memory geek, she could say where both of his hands had been throughout and at _no time_ did either of them leave her body.

Which meant…

Heady realization had her groping for the cool support of the cabinets.

…Without even touching himself?

Just from the act of bringing her pleasure.

"_Oh,_" she moaned, a hand at her throat, her heart and her head working themselves up for a good swoon, until the memory geek reminded her who she was looking at.

"Excuse me," sitting up straight and surveying him through squinted eyes. "But who are you and what have you done with Edward Elric?"

Eyebrows narrowed again, Edward glared at her in wounded insult.

"_Who are you calling too selfish to satisfy a woman?" _

And then, unable to hold the expression any longer, he burst out laughing.

"I _deserved_ that. I know it." He took her hand, kissed it softly. "Forgive me?"

Shaken by his uncharacteristic chivalry, she felt herself suddenly shy, every bit of the young woman in love that she was.

"Of _course_ I will."

Leaning into him again, intoxicated by the feel of him, by those distinctly Edward-ian smells of sweat and sun and oil, she ran her hands up his smooth torso and kissed him, gently at first, but then with growing heat.

She felt him respond in kind which should have driven her mad with want, but being recently sated left her mind a little clearer than it might have been in this instance.

There was still the matter of his sudden sexual epiphany.

How did he know to do…what he did?

She was absolutely certain there were no similar examples in either "reference."

A thought was brewing and it wasn't a pleasant one.

Pulling herself away from his mouth so abruptly she heard a faint _pop!_, she sat back on her knees.

"I'd love to know where you learned that, Edward," she said, fists planted firmly on her hips.

Edward's expression was one of total confusion.

"Huh? What are you talking about, Winry."

"'_What are you talking about, Winry?'_!" she mimicked with a huff.

Edward flinched and tried to back up, but the cabinets, and Winry, had him cornered.

She fixed him in her sights, feeling the blood begin to boil in her ears.

He'd _said_ he was a virgin_._

He'd _said_ he'd never been with _anyone_ before her.

But if that was true, then how did he know how to do _that_?

**(section break)**

He'd been a little too sated to think clearly a moment ago, but that look on her face was disastrously familiar and if he was going to save his head, and possibly some other, more irreplaceable parts of him, he knew he had to act fast.

His well-honed survival instinct told him that as much as he might have wanted to yell back at her, match attitude for attitude, this fight – _whatever_ it was about – was not going to be won that way.

All that would do was put him on the quick road to concussion.

Deciding to backpedal instead, to play the innocent that he actually was, he chose his last, best card: confusion.

"I-I don't understand, Winry! You—you _finished_, didn't you? Isn't that what you wanted?" Cabinet doors rattled behind him as he attempted to get some distance between her and that mean right hook of hers.

"It's _"come!"_ you moron!! How hard is it to remember one little word?!" She rose up on her knees, towering over him.

What was she so mad about? He just didn't get it.

He'd_ done it_ – he'd made her happy; very, _very_ happy.

Shit! He'd made _himself_ pretty happy, too. Who'd'a thunk it?

He'd done everything right, _for once_, and she was upset?

Wasn't that what she'd sent him out there to figure out?

Was she just _incapable_ of being happy?

Or was it…

Edward thought back over the thought processes preceding his big epiphany under the tree and suddenly realized, with yet _another_ epiphany, that his understanding, his _inspiration_, had come not from some specific "instruction" he'd gotten from either book, (they'd already tried _'insert tab A into slot B'_…), but from the a profound wish to bring joy to someone he really, really cared about. The specifics of how he brought _about_ that joy didn't come to him until he'd seen her face, until he'd felt his heart start to spin in his chest. Inspiration had whispered in his ear and, again, it had seemed like a good idea so he'd run with it.

It still seemed like a good idea, even if she'd misunderstood, but why _had_ she misunderstood?

Edward's Genius had a few ideas and without waiting to be asked, ventured a guess.

'_Because, idiot, someone who doesn't know what they're doing doesn't usually do what you did… Usually they have to learn that from someone _else_.'_

Someone else?

A whole _bank_ of light bulbs went on at once in Edward's head and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, knowing damn well that laughing was a quick ticket to head trauma.

_She thinks I _lied_ to her about being a virgin. I mean, it's not like that isn't the perfect thing to lie about, but who would believe it? I'm pretty embarrassed about how _much_ of a virgin I was…_

_I never pretended to know anything._

_Which…which, I guess, makes…what I did seem suspicious, like I ran to a phone and called the Bastard for ideas or something…_

_Or like I learned it from another girl._

He sat there before her, his mouth open wide at his own stupidity.

How could he not have seen that?

Several minutes had passed while he'd sorted this out and he was amazed she hadn't pounced yet. Maybe she was trying to decide whether a wrench or bare hands would be more satisfying…

Before she could do either, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her close to him.

"Listen to me, Winry. I know what you're thinking, but you're _wrong_."

Her eyebrows pinched more tightly together, but he went on, unfazed.

"I wanted to make you happy, to do for you what you'd done for me and…and _that_," he broke off, face growing warm. "Th-that seemed like it would feel good, like it was something you'd…um, _like_. …Did you? L-like it?"

She gave a tiny shrug of concession, cheeks coloring, but her eyes never left his.

Relieved he'd made some headway, he shifted automail fingers against her wrist, running a cool thumb along her pulse point, an action that seemed to gradually break through her angry stupor.

He heard her exhale, long and slow, visibly relaxing.

"Besides, you spent the _morning_ with me," he said, grinning. "Did it _seem_ like I'd done that before?"

"_Absolutely not_," she said quickly, _too_ quickly, but he fought off the urge to rant.

"You know me, I'm a selfish prick," he went on with a laugh. "You'd made me feel so good, but I hadn't done a thing for _you_. All I could think about was…was… " He trailed off, aware that the 'want' was readying itself for another run. "I…I wanted to do things to you you'd never read in any books." Of its own volition, his tongue slipped out to lick his lips. "I…I wanted to…to…" _("Are you a man or a m-m-mouse!? SAY it!")_ "…I wanted to…to _taste_ you, to see first hand what would happen if I touched you like that." He flushed crimson. "You liked it, didn't you?"

"I did. I _really_ did." She seemed suddenly fixated on his mouth so he leaned across the inches that separated them and kissed her, shivering at the tiny moan that escaped her.

Lips trailing down her neck, he slipped his flesh hand beneath her top, finding and pinching the peaked nub, pleased at the gasp this elicited from her.

Her head fell back against the cabinet door, her mouth open in pleasure.

"E-Ed…"

Following the path his fingers had taken, he pulled the fabric away with his teeth, running the tip of his tongue against the soft skin there, then closed lips around her, suckling heatedly. He ran his free hand up her thigh and, without a moment's hesitation, within.

"A-ah!!" She gasped, but just when he thought he was home free, she suddenly pulled up to look at him. "Bed, Edward. _Now._"

"Bed?" he asked, confused, as if language were a skill he had not yet mastered.

The geeks, most of whom had run off to the commissary for donuts and juice when things got talky, scrambled to make sense of the word, in their haste sending crullers flying everywhere.

"Yes!!" she hissed, hands to his face now. "I'm going to have a hard enough time as it is looking at that countertop when Granny and Al get home."

The lead geek, a true professional, found and cued up the appropriate tape in an instant and Ed's head filled with the sound of gasping moans and suckling while the big screen flashed an image of a nearly naked Winry, back arched against the kitchen counter, Ed's head between her pale thighs…

Something, probably blood, possibly grey matter, began to leak out his left nostril.

"…and if we were to add the kitchen table, the sink and the couch," Winry went on, her voice reaching a fever pitch. "I'll pretty much just be red-faced _all of the time_. Granny's going to think I'm _dying_ or something." With an obvious effort, she disengaged herself from him and rose to her feet, one hand smoothing down her crumpled skirt.

"She'll know something's up, Ed. Are _you_ ready to deal with my grandmother?"

Ed didn't need any help from the geeks to illustrate that particular thought. An image of Granny Pinako, bite-sized and bespectacled, floated across the previously Winry-filled screen.

"No," he whimpered. "No, no, no, no, _noooo_…"

Sadly, Pinako – The Anti-Aphrodisiac, was also having an affect on Edward's want.

He watched it evaporate, feeling wistful and cheated. Some of the geeks were crying like babies while a few of the more dogged ones were determinedly rifling through past tapes, throwing random images onto the screen, but a naked, writhing Winry only served to make Ed more wistful.

He hadn't realized he'd slumped into a heap until he felt Winry's fingers under his chin.

Delicately, deliberately, she tipped his head up, then bent to claim his mouth. She drew him onto his feet with a hand to his elbow.

Breaking away from the kiss, leaving him breathless and yes!, _wanting_, she pointed with her own chin to the stairs.

"Bed," she asked, her voice a whisper.

His only response was to blush extravagantly and nod.

With the geeks banging pots in his head and Edward's libido's best buddy having regained its will to live, he lifted her into his arms and carried her swiftly to the stairs.

"You know, Edward," Winry said, arms around his shoulders and face buried in his warm neck. "I was thinking about that thing I said to you a long time ago…"

"Which thing would that be?" he grunted, shifting her around so he could see her face.

"…um, the thing about not wanting to be carried by someone shorter than me."

Eyes wide, Ed faltered on the landing.

"Are you _asking_ to be dropped on your butt," he said, but in spite of his tone, and the half-hearted Pissed Off he tried to plaster on his face, _nothing_ was going to break his mood. He just felt too damned good.

And then Winry did something that made his mushy heart melt even further.

She bit her lip and blushed.

"I…I just wanted to say I was sorry for saying that. I know it hurt your feelings and I'm sorry." She smiled at him nervously and the rest of Ed's heart evaporated in a puff of ozone. "Forgive me?"

Her lower lip was quivering and Ed just couldn't take it anymore.

The _bed_ would have to wait.

Standing her up on her feet, he pressed her back against the wall. Winry's squeak of surprise, and the way her body melted into his, was all the encouragement he needed.

He then proceeded, with every ounce of his new-found skill, to _prove_ to her just how _much_ he forgave her.

She might be blushing from now on when she used the stairs, but he knew she'd agree it was worth it...

en fin…

26


	11. Chapter 11

OK, so I bet no one thought they'd be hearing from me again this soon. (What – have the planets aligned – _again_?) But, well, I'm going back to college fulltime in a month and I'm thinking there will be no fun writing for the next year, so…so if I'm going to write the next chapter in Branded, I had dern well better do it NOW. So, without further hemming or hawing, I bring you Chapter 4 in the EdXWin series, Branded…

[Oops! A leetle bit more…]

My thanks to all of you who have been patient and hung on, have come upon the series recently and/or have recommended it to your friends. (I hear from ffn about you guys and I'm grateful for the favoriting and story alerting!)

And last, my thanks, as always, to **alchemyotaku75**for the constant encouragement and for making me feel good enough to write.

**Story: **(Re)Conditioned Responses (4/7) - Part 1

**Series: **Branded

**Author:** ibshafer

**Rating:** Hard R…oh, I give up – NC17…

**Character/Pairing:** Oh, definitely WinXEd (poor little bugger - he doesn't stand a chance…)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.

**Summary:** In which Winry tries to break Ed of his milk aversion – _any way she can_…

**Warnings:** profanity, sexual situations, explicit without naming names, if you catch my drift…

**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; AU, I guess...

**Spoilers:** none

**Feedback:** _Yes_, please...

Branded - Series Map:

Branded (complete)

Kiss and Tell (complete)

Learning Curve (complete)

(Re)Conditioned Response (IN PROGRESS)

Even Steven (up next!)

Shave and a Haircut

Overdue Book Fines

(Re)Conditioned Responses

_~ibshafer_

You would think after clearing that very formidable sex hurdle – and for a while, it almost seemed like they _wouldn't_ – Winry would have been content to rest on her laurels for a while.

Edward, for his part, was resting on _his_ beside her, half-submerged in blankets and sheets, resting so _hard_ (if it were possible to do such a relaxed thing as _resting_ 'hard,' and she suspected, from the look of him there, that it most certainly _was_), that he appeared to have lost all his bones – and doubled his weight.

He'd had such a rough time of it yesterday, but had rallied so well, so incredibly, creatively, mind-blowingly well, that she almost felt guilty for what she was going to do to him today.

But Winry was never so happy as when she had a new project to work on and _this_ one might prove to be the mother of them all…

Because on this day, as she and Edward still basked in some considerable afterglow (and perhaps _because_ they were still basking in that afterglow), Winry Rockbell would break Edward Elric of his aversion to milk.

_Even if it killed him. _

[section break]

The first thing Edward thought when he woke up was, _"Shit, did I sleep through the day?"_ because the world was pitch black.

But then he realized that he couldn't see a thing _at all_ and _that_ couldn't be right. Even if it _were_ night, and heck, they'd just finished round – what-was-it? – _five_ when the sun was coming up so it certainly was _possible_ that it was night, he would still have been able to see the outline of furniture in the light from outside. Winry's big windows let in a lot, even at night, something that he'd been very grateful for, because, as she put it, he had turned out to be a very…_visual_ person in bed.

At this, the blood rushed to his cheeks and the geeks used that handy break in Edward's almost constant inner monologue to try to figure out what was going on. One brilliant recruit came up with an explanation that made the most sense. (And earned him a promotion…)

_Edward was blindfolded._

"What the _hey_?" he muttered, reaching up to pull the offending fabric from his face.

Or, well, he thought he was reaching up to pull the blindfold from his face, but his hands had other ideas: _they were tied to the bedpost._

"_**WINRY!!!!"**_ he screamed at the top of his formidable lungs. _**"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON??!!!"**_

[section break]

'_Oh, my, is he screaming already?' _Putting the last of the supplies into her picnic basket, she ran up the stairs. _'And I haven't even done anything yet…'_

Listening to him yell, she began to doubt her plan, her actions, her _nerve,_ but she'd done a lot of reading and this really did seem like it could work.

If she could just open his eyes, remove that barrier, not only would he be a happier person (one that could properly enjoy brownies and pie!), but a healthier, perhaps even a _taller_ one… (Not that she cared about his height anymore – they certainly fit together well enough…)

Her intent was to combine current psychological theories on conditioned responses and reflexes – a learned gentleman named Pavlovonic in a distant, northern country had done some interesting work with dogs – with some of the more…well, erotic passages of a few of her favorite books.

If she approached it like the science it was, she should be fine, but if she let Edward's complaints sway her (and there were sure to be a lot of them), or let him try and confuse or distract her by other means (which he was certainly capable of), she might run into trouble.

It could all backfire in her face _or_…or it could lead to one very adventurous afternoon and an Edward Elric with a whole new appreciation of the dairy industry.

Either way, it was worth trying.

[section break]

He heard the door swing open and zeroed in on the sound, which was rather amazing when you consider that he hadn't stopped making noise – _screaming, panting, muttering, groaning_ – since he'd awoken to find himself blind and tied up.

"WINRY??!! JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE _DOING_?!" he screamed in what he believed was her general direction.

He expected her to respond in _some_ way, if not to apologize to him for his current, ignoble condition, then to at least yell back at him…but there was no sound at all.

Was she there or had the wind just opened the door?

It was possible, sometimes that door didn't shut very tightly, but that wouldn't explain the sudden scent of her almond shampoo on the air currents now entering the room.

_She _must_ be here._

Damn! He wished he could see!

"Where _are_ you" he croaked, starting to feel the apprehension tickle his spine. "What's going on, Winry?"

One of the more neurotic geeks suggested this might all be some sort of punishment for yesterday's sexual missteps and Edward couldn't deny he deserved _some_ sort of retaliation.

But to be bound and gagged? OK, not gagged, but blinded?

Was her aim to torture him? Was this some kinky new sex game or was it _torment_? And if it was the latter, well, after what he'd put her through yesterday didn't he _own_ that?

_I'm such a jerk…_

"_Winry_," he pleaded, his voice breaking despite all efforts to the contrary. "I'm _sorry._ I'm sorry I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry I was only thinking of myself. I'm sorry it took me so long to–"

A rush of air and the bed shifting and then there were soft, mobile lips on his, hands deep in his hair.

He was breathless, her tongue at his neck, when she finally spoke, her voice a whisper, her breath hot in his ear.

"You apologized enough last night, Edward," she said softly, suckling his ear lobe. _"This isn't about punishment."_ And then she went back to work…

For a recent ex-virgin, she was very _good_ with her tongue and hands, _very_ persuasive, but even as his eyes were rolling back into his skull, he caught the faint hint of _something's-not-normal_ in her voice.

Had Edward been more experienced or more…er, _well-read_, he and the geeks might have provided him with another possibility, one not quite so sinister. (In fact, one not sinister at all – unless that's what you were going for…) Instead, his mind stumbled down a dark path that lead to no where good.

"Then what's it about," he said as flatly as he could manage.

He felt her sit back, bouncing on his thighs in a vaguely pleasant manner.

"Well," she began and there was no mistaking the hesitation in her tone. "That whole drama with the brownies yesterday got me thinking about a new project, something I've been researching for a while. I hadn't worked out all the parameters yet, not until yesterday…"

The deep scowling he was doing made the blindfold slip a little on his forehead and through the thinned fabric he could almost make out the shape of her in front of him; she seemed to be fiddling with something in her lap, something that was not _in_ his lap.

"C'mon, Winry. What are you up to and what is all this about?"

There was a faint giggle and then what he could swear sounded like the scrape of a spoon against the side of a metal bowl.

_What the fuck?_

"_**Winry!"**_

W-was that her _tongue_ on his chest and…eewwwww, now something _cold_?

"J-just what kind of project involves you l-l-licking my chest while I'm blindfolded," he said with so little control, he squeaked the last half of the last word out.

Again, a bounce and the feeling of her sitting back on his thighs.

In a voice that was half possessed-engineer and half-he-didn't-know-what (but that the sound made him ache in places he wouldn't have thought he could after the last twenty four hours), she said, _"I'm going to break you of your aversion to milk, Edward."_

_My aversion to milk?!_

_Milk?!_

_This was all about friggin' milk?!_

_Oh, for cryin' out loud!_

And then the realization hit him.

_This was all about m-milk?!_

"_I..I thought you said this wasn't about punishment," _he rasped out, but by then it was too late; she attacked his right nipple with a cold spoon and something soft and wet and he let out a scream that could have raised the dead. (If it were possible to do that, that is…)

[section break]

tbc…


	12. Chapter 12

**Series: **Branded

**Title: **Two Bits (Rejected Branded Chapter 6)  
**Part:** 6/7  
**Author:** ibshafer  
**Rating:** PG  
**Character/Pairing:** WinXEd  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.  
**Summary:** Shave and a Haircut…and confession time…  
**Warnings:** some kissy-face stuff, nothing explicit  
**Genre:** Fullmetal Alchemist; Humor/Romance  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Feedback:** _Yes_, please…

**A/N:** OK, so here's the story. (Yes, there's a story before you can read the story…) I wrote this as a part of the Branded series, way back in the beginning, before I had really gotten too far with it – it came to me so I wrote it – and, well, you might know how insane Learning Curve got, full out slapstick and silliness, and this here story, well… it's more sweet than silly. Truth is it just doesn't seem to relate to the rest of the series anymore. But it's a nice story. On its own. And really, it stands alone just fine. So! So I offer it to you now. You need not have read the rest of the series to understand it. The only thing you need to know is that Ed and Winry are, finally, _finally!_, together. If you like, you may consider it within the context of the Branded Series and if you do so, know that it falls next to last in the storyline, after Branded, after Kiss and Tell, after Learning Curve, after (Re)Conditioned Responses (in progress), after the yet-to-be-written Even Steven, before Mustang gets his sex manual back. It contains no spoilers of itself, btw, so if you want to go back and read the series now, you'll still be mostly surprised. (Other than the fact that they're together.) OK, enough talking, on to the story…

1. Branded **[COMPLETE]** Ed finds Winry's signature on him

2. Kiss and Tell **[COMPLETE]** Al tries to get details out of Ed

3. Learning Curve **[COMPLETE]** Ed and Winry do the deed…until they get it right

4. (Re)Conditioned Responses Winry tries to break Ed of his aversion to milk

5. Even Steven Ed finds a way to make things even…

6. Two Bits **[COMPLETE]** Shave and a Haircut… and confession time…

7. Coda Ed returns Roy's book… and then some…

Two Bits

~ibshafer

"_Ed_. Stop squirming."

Edward huffed once, shifting around in the chair like a 5-year old at the barber. "Is this really necessary?"

Hefting the tool in her right hand, she passed it between her fingers like a pro.

"Yes, it _is_…"

Ed rolled his eyes. "The last time you had your hands in my hair, you nearly pulled half of it out by the _roots_."

Winry quirked an eyebrow. "See, and I'm remembering it differently, 'cause the _last_ time I had my hands in your hair, I seem to remember you weren't complaining too much…" She fixed him with a meaningful look and was rewarded when he flushed a lovely shade of pink. "'Sides, you're staring to look a little _scruffy_."

She bit back a laugh, watching him battle it out over which word he was going to react to…

Edward, for once, too the high ground.

Who're you calling _scruffy-looking_," he asked, sounding deeply insulted. Gold eyebrows pinched together, he peered out from behind his wet bangs.

"_You_, you idiot," she said, but her voice was soft and her hands were on his face and when she kissed him, she made damn sure he knew she _meant_ it.

Ed's answering moan was involuntary and barely audible, but it made her toes curl just the same.

She pulled away from him slowly so she could see the look on his face; sweetly blessed, eyes still closed, lips parted, breath coming in quiet, but ragged pants.

Winry shivered.

No matter how many time she saw it, she'd never get enough of it; she relished every tiny, little sign of her affect on him. After all those years of thinking he was ignoring her…

She brought him round with a kiss to the end of his nose, her hands still cupped round his face, stroking his skin idly.

Hmmmm…

She caught him staring at her and realized she was rubbing his chin rather roughly.

"_What?_" His voice held a hint of fearful confusion, but with her hands still squeezing his cheeks, the word just sounded silly, more "wert" than "what."

Annoyed, (she knew Edward hated sounding silly), he pulled back and away. "What're you thinking, Winry. You're making me nervous…"

"Well…" She leaned in, rubbing her cheek against the side of his face. "Yep, _definitely_."

Now he looked downright afraid.

"'_What'_ definitely?"

"Edward, when was the last time you shaved?"

"_S-shaved?"_

~*~*~*~*~

An hour later, he was sitting next to the upturned basin in a puddle of soapy water, growling under his breath, water dripping off the end of his aquiline nose, his face dotted with tiny scraps of tissue.

Tissue dotted with blood.

His blood…

How was _she_ to know she was supposed to have his face differently than she did her _legs?_ Skin was skin, right?

Of course, her legs weren't bloody right now and Edward's face, most definitely, _was…_

She felt _awful_.

She felt _incredibly_ awful…but it would not do to let Ed know that.

He would never let her live it down…

Taking a different tack ('_distract him until he forgets what he was upset about,'_ which she'd fond, on occasion, actually _worked_), she just shook her head at him.

"You are _such_ a big baby!"

Plastering on her best patronizing look, and she had more than one, she roller her eyes at him, being careful to stay out of arms' reach. (She was grateful that she hadn't let him talk her into adding the extra plates to her forearm the he'd begged for last year. It would have allowed him to extend his hand almost a foot beyond his normal reach. Somehow she's just _known_ she'd regret that one some day…)

As if on cue, Edward scowled at her, face flushing with offense.

"Who're you calling a baby?"

It was working almost too well…

Pretending to lose her patience, she stared him straight in the eye.

"How many years have you been on this earth, Edward?"

He stared back at her, utterly confused.

"Is this a trick question?"

She let out a small sigh through her nose.

"Yes, idiot. It _is_… Now answer it."

He gave a nose sigh of his own.

"_You_ know I'm seventeen, Winry." Edward pressed his lips into a thin line.

"So, what – you've been talking since, well, pretty much since the day you were _born_, and you've been asking that question…pretty much since the day you were born…"

The look on his face said that Edward didn't see where this was going and he wasn't happy about that; his brow started to gather dangerously.

"What question are you talking about, Winry," he asked, voice a low rasp.

Nonplussed, she continued. "The _"Who're you calling a – fill-in-the-blank!?"_ question."

She took in the anger collecting itself on his face, considered dropping the whole thing, decided the pay off would be worth it, and went on.

"Without fail, _every single time it's asked_, what is the _**answer**_ to that question, Edward?"

Armed folded against his bared chest, a prodigious frown on his face, Edward did not reply.

"_**You…**_ The answer is always _you_! So, why…_why_ do you keep asking it?"

She couldn't hold it any longer, finally allowing herself a giggle as her face softened.

"You silly, silly, _beautiful_ boy! You are so incredibly brilliant and yet time after time, you set yourself up for that. Why? What do you have to prove, Ed?"

She wrapped her arms around his bristling body, momentarily taken aback by his stiffness, but she had no intention of taking his body's "no" for an answer; she held on, hands stroking his smooth back until he gave up and gave in, relaxing against her with a heavy sigh.

"You _like_ making fun of me…" he muttered, but his hands were on her waist and his breath was warm on her neck.

"No, Edward. I like _you_." She pulled him closer, pleased when she heard him gasp at the sensation.

She held him that way for a moment, enjoying the feel of his chest rising and falling against her own, thrilled when his fingers traced her spine through the fabric of her shirt.

Sighing, she pressed her lips to his neck, kissing him softly, then drew away.

"You have no idea how perfect you already _are_, do you?"

When she saw him blush, she kissed him again, this time on the mouth and the way he held back, as if suddenly unsure of himself, even after everything they had so recently done in this very house, made her press more fervently against his tentative lips, trying to convince him of her words with her tongue and her breath and her passion.

"Why do you have to be _everything_, all at once, Edward? Why do you have to be six feet tall?" She saw his eyes go wide, but she kept going. "Why do you have to solve every mystery? Right every wrong? Have the answer to every question?"

She drew away and held him at arms' length, taking him all in. On the surface, she saw the strong features of his face, his wide amber eyes, full lips, his long, smooth neck, broad chest, skin almost golden, almost _glowing_… She imagined she could see his passionate heart beating in his chest, that she could hear the wheels turning in his brilliant mind, trying to work out every problem there was, trying to redeem himself for the pain he'd brought to the ones he loved, trying to make it all right...

The thought of this, and the _sight_ of him, made her shiver unconsciously.

She saw him smile in answer and run a warm hand up her arm.

Which made her shiver again.

"You couldn't be more perfect than you already _are_, Edward."

His face softened, the flush deepening and, suddenly shy, he looked away, smiling.

She had the sort of epiphany you have when you realize the time, the time you have been waiting for is _now_; _the time was right_.

"_That's_ why…" She faltered for a moment, then bolstered by the sight of him before her, continued. "_That's_ why I love you, you idiot…"

"Stop calling me an idiot," he said softly, still blushing, but his eyes dancing with mirth.

"_Make me,"_ she breathed.

And he _did…_


End file.
